


Love By Any Other Name

by charis2770



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Punishment, Rough Sex, Slash, Spanking, Yaoi, although everyone makes mistakes, but it gets fixed, healthy depiction of BDSM relationships, i realize i use absurdly long tags sometimes, kidnapping and very dark things happen in Revenge, nonconsensual torture in later chapters, sex we're been waiting to write about for what seems like years now, very very cute boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 212,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the second collaboratory story between myself and my new friend who I almost immediately feel I have known most of my life. This story arc continues the exploration of the expanding relationship between Asami, Akihito, and their new friend Haru, as begun on our blogs, askasamifeiandaki.tumblr.com and itoharuki.tumblr.com. This arc branches off from my regular blog and its associated fanfictions hosted here, so be aware that this is new ground! Follow this storyline on our new blog at wheremydem0nsh1de.tumblr.com, and we both hope you enjoy!</p><p>Herein, Akihito and Asami have a conversation about Haru and what to do about their growing attraction and feelings towards the young student. The first sentence takes place immediately following a text message sent to Asami from Haru that can be found on the blog! (shameless promotion)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can we Keep Him?

Asami stares at the text messages on his phone blindly for some time. He swipes his hand over his face and through his hair, something he never does because it completely disarranges his hairstyle, and then bangs his head gently against the window he’s standing beside, something else he never does.

“Asami! What’s wrong?” Akihito’s soft cry of concern jolts him back to reality and he turns as the boy hurries to his side, looking worried.

“Ah. Nothing. I’m fine,” he sighs.

“Bullshit. Don’t lie to me, Asami, or shut me out. You do it all the time but that look…it’s not business. Business never…never UPSETS you.”

“All right,” he says with a twitch of a smile at his lips. He sits down in the big leather armchair near the window and tugs Aki into his lap, something his Takaba informs him regularly is ridiculous because he’s not a CHILD, but that Asami does anyway because he likes to and because Aki IS his boy. After the few moments of obligatory struggle and grumbling, Aki settles against him and plays absently with the top button of Asami’s shirt and the skin of his throat and clavicle, which would be distracting if he let it.

“Will you please just…talk to me this time? I’m tired of never knowing what’s going on. Of feeling like…like you still won’t trust me,” says Aki in a small voice. Asami feels a pang of conscience, but tamps it down. Most of what he doesn’t tell Akihito is for his own good.

“I trust you, Aki. It’s other people I don’t trust. But…as it happens, this concerns you as well. I didn’t intend to shut you out. Saying nothing’s wrong is both my knee-jerk reaction and, in a way, the truth. Nothing is WRONG, precisely.”

“Then what IS it?”

“Haru.”

“Oh,” says Akihito, and the tone in his voice tells Asami he’s absolutely not alone in his personal crisis and that Akihito understands much of what he’s feeling. “You don’t know what to do either huh?”

“Akihito…this subject makes me very uncomfortable, and I want to tell you why without you getting your feelings hurt. Can you give me that?”

Aki sighs and scrunches up his face in consternation and it’s so fucking cute that Asami has to laugh at him and Aki grins back and he thinks maybe it’s going to be okay.

“You’re worried cause I get sorta crazy jealous about you and other people who aren’t…us. Ours. Right?”

“Yes,” agrees Asami, still chuckling a little.

“But…but…Asami? It’s…Haru…he IS.”

“Is what, pet?”

“He’s OURS.”

Well. This is cutting to the chase with the kind of ruthless precision Asami tends to expect from his more practical employees but not usually from Aki, and it startles him. Not as much as the sentence, “I have to spank Haru,” coming out of this cute little mouth, but still.

“You’ll have to forgive my caution here and tell me what you mean by that,” he says slowly.

“I can’t stand it, Asami. I can’t stand being with him and not BEING with him. What if he meets someone? If I think about somebody else touching him it…it’s so weird…it makes me really ANGRY. Not just at them, at Haru too…like how dare he let someone else…and don’t tell me you don’t know. I see how you look at him. I see how what he wants makes your fucking teeth hurt with wanting it back. When we were talking…before you spanked us both that night?...he was saying why he wants it, and so was I, and we want…mostly the same things, but not for the same reason. And you…Asami you like BOTH of the reasons. If it wasn’t for being with Feilong, it would probably scare me, make me worry that he’s going to replace me, but I know that’s not true. You like that I don’t want to bow to you. But…you like that Haru does. And that’s okay. I like…I liked it so much, Asami…when you spanked us both and I…I liked it when I spanked him too. And FeiFei…he’s….” Aki chokes on a sob when he starts to say this, and Asami strokes his hand over the boy’s shaggy head and cups his cheek gently.

“I know. Our Feilong is growing up.”

“Don’t you dare joke!” cries Akihito, bristling.

“No, shh. I’m not. It’s true. He came to us…stunted, Aki. By the past, and all the years he spent trapped in it. Emotionally he hadn’t grown at all from the boy he was at twenty when I met him. He is growing now, and I am part of that past. Don’t be sad. FeiFei will always be ours at least a little. But with Yoh he has a pure love that I can’t ever give him, because my heart is given elsewhere. I love Feilong, but not in the way he truly needs, and Yoh does. I don’t think it will need to be said, or that any kind of horrid painful discussion will happen. It’s been happening bit by bit, and that’s all right. He spends more nights downstairs than here when they are in Tokyo now. He’s going to ask Yoh to top him soon, I can feel it.”

“And you don’t mean fuck him,” says Aki.

“No. I know that’s already happened. I mean PLAY him. And Yoh…it going to be a natural.”

“You don’t think Yoh’s really a sub.”

“I think Yoh belongs to Feilong. But I also think he’s just as much a switch as his lover and that it’s going to work beautifully for them.”

“I don’t think I can see Yoh HURTING FeiFei.”

“Mm. And it’s for that reason that we’ll never truly lose him.”

“Because Yoh will never be jealous about what Feilong needs, and he’ll only ever come to YOU when he needs more than Yoh can stand to do to him, not to anyone else!”

“Yes. You’re growing very wise, Akihito-san,” says Asami, grinning. He’s joking, but he only ever uses the appellation when he’s actually impressed, so Akihito grins back and his face shines with pride.  “And Feilong will always be your Ani. No matter what happens. After the way he treated you in the past…”

“No, Asami. I don’t want to talk about that. I know what you mean. I do. He needs to be my protector and my big brother…even when that means he…uh…is strict with me…because it fixes his heart.”

“I’m just going to sit back and let you work out everybody’s lives for them,” says Asami, sounding surprised. Akihito whacks him on the arm and he captures the offending hand easily, tugging it to his lips to nip Aki’s fingers sharply. “Be good. If I have to turn you over my knee, this conversation isn’t going to get anywhere.”

“Hnn. So…after?”

“Absolutely. I’m nearly certain you’re going to give me more reasons to do it.”

“Here’s another one now,” says Aki archly, and sticks his tongue out.

“So disrespectful,” sighs Asami. “Shall we continue so that I may get to the part where I pull down your pants and put you over my lap and spank your bottom red and sore, and then tongue your little asshole until you stop crying…and then pick you up and lower you onto my cock and make you ride me until you come…and then pick you up and throw you over the back of this chair and fuck you hard. So hard you squeal and squirm and cry a little…and…”

“S-stop,” begs Aki, whimpering. “I’m not gonna want to wait and….hng…oh you’re an asshole…and we NEED to talk about this.”

“My apologies, oh wise one. So. Haru.”

“Asami,” whispers Akihito, leaning forward and hiding his face against the older man’s neck. “I love him.”

“I care for him too. And I’d stake my life on it being very, very mutual.”

“Oh yeah. Well, at least I know he feels that way about YOU.”

“Mm. Because he takes his pants off in the kitchen and lets just ANYbody spank him.”

“He better not!”

“Akihito,” says Asami, raising his eyebrows. “He better not, hm? Or else what?”

“Or I’ll use something that hurts a lot more than the rice paddle,” mutters Aki darkly. Which is adorable. Asami doesn’t think Aki would appreciate the laughter that wants to bubble up in his chest, so he squashes it firmly.

“Poor Haru,” he murmurs, “he’s likely to never be able to sit down comfortably again.”

“Well that’s what he wants anyway, so it’s fine.”

“So then how is this going to work? Two tops tend to really fuck up a relationship’s dynamic when they butt heads,” says Asami with a straight face, because Akihito deserves to have his feelings validated, and deserves Asami’s respect, even if his ribs creak a little with the effort. Aki rolls his eyes.

“You’re the…the dominant,” he says impatiently. “I’m not gonna try to be like THAT. Like I could. Um…is it impossible if I’m like his boyfriend and you’re the master?”

“I don’t think labeling everything is absolutely necessary. You enjoyed it then, paddling his cute behind?”

“Well….yeah.”

“And you’d like to fuck him in it too, wouldn’t you Akihito?”

Aki squirms a little, looking embarrassed.

“Kinda. No. I’d REALLY like to. I keep thinking about it. I wouldn’t hurt him. I keep thinking about how he’d whimper and moan and whisper yes oh yes and….and how tight he’d be…and how I’d hold him close and tell him that he’s beautiful and I’ve wanted him so much…and how he’d raise his hips and gasp and tell me please Aki MORE…”

“You know that fucking you’re getting later?”

“Huh?”

“If you don’t want it NOW, you should really stop talking like that.”

“YOU want to hurt him,” says Aki, breathing hard and wriggling, which isn’t entirely comfortable to the rapidly growing erection in Asami’s vicuna wool Burberry slacks.

“Oh yes,” he agrees. “I want to listen to him howl and beg and cry when I fuck him for the first time. If it ever happens, I’m going to make the first time hurt. Being claimed…it should be that way. I’m a bastard, and he needs to know it. He needs to know that sometimes I will hurt him just because I want to. He needs to know so that if he can’t take it, he can make that choice at the beginning. I don’t think he’ll decide he can’t take it. I think he wants it that way. When I’ve told him it would hurt and he’d cry if I fucked him, his eyes have rolled back in his head and he’s been too busy coming to say anything. I think in his head the first time should be that way, a trial by fire and pain…being split open without mercy, being shown that he’s OWNED and he must take what I give him. That he wants it to ache and burn. That he wants to be tender and sore the next morning. He wants to reach back with his fingers and touch his little hole and feel how swollen it is, shiver and hiss through his teeth because it hurts to touch it…and if he hasn’t been told not to or I’m not there to stop him, I think he’d push those fingers inside anyway, and whimper, and love it. And I think he thinks about what it would be like if I woke up the next morning and wanted to fuck him again, knowing he’d have to take that too…and he wonders if I’d go slow, ease into him while he gasped and whined because he ached so much, or if I’d be as rough as the first time. I think he thinks about it a lot.”

“Well I can tell that YOU do,” snickers Akihito, pressing his hips down so that his ass grinds against Asami’s hard-on. Asami slaps him sharply on the thigh.

“Be good, and I’ll put you in charge when I’m at work.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hm. Of course, that means if EITHER of you get into trouble while I’m gone, YOU are responsible.”

“That’s not fair!”

“I know.”

“Wh…uh…what does that mean, exactly?” asks Aki tentatively, chewing on his bottom lip. Which he needs to stop, because it’s too adorable.

“Well, it means if YOU are naughty, you get a spanking when I get home. If Haru is naughty, both of you get spankings when I get home, and if BOTH of you are naughty…you both get spankings when I get home and then YOU get spanked a second time. Once for being a bad boy and once for letting your brother get in trouble.”

“I don’t know if he’ll like that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll be gettin’ spanked more than him.”

“Ah. Then he can volunteer to share your discipline like last time and it will be even.”

“We’re doing this, huh?” says Aki.

“Well, it looks like we’re going to put the offer on the table anyway. Obviously he has to choose it.”

“Well duh. Now? Can we call him now?”

Asami laughs and hugs Aki.

“I think a couple of things need to happen first.”

“Oh…okay….what?”

“Well, one…I think I had better talk to Feilong. I don’t want him to think he’s being replaced, and he IS a part of this relationship. I won’t show him that kind of disrespect.”

“That makes sense. Okay. Good idea.”

“I’m glad you approve.”

“I’m glad you’re not a dick or anything, that’d be terrible,” says Aki tartly.

“Oh look, there’s another one of those reasons,” chuckles Asami, pushing Aki off his lap and thumbing open the boy’s jeans.

“Hey! Wait…what’s the other thing?”

“This IS the other thing. Or did you forget what I said I’d do when we were done here?”

“Oh that. Yeah, that’s totally gotta come firs….uhhhngh.”


	2. Desperate Acts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Haru can no longer take being so close to his heart's desire without being able to touch it, and goes out in search of something to call his own. This is probably not going to go over very well...

Haru scrolls through the most recent texts from Akihito he's received over the last week. A pang of guilt tears at his composure, and he chews at his lower lip, trying to decide if he should tell Akihito about his plans for the night.

It's not that he's lied to Akihito. He has had exams and projects, but free time could have been made, _would_ have been made for them, if Haru wasn't so torn about his inability to get a grip on his emotions.

Nothing worries him more than the thought of losing Akihito's friendship and Asami-sama's approval. They've been so good to him that he can't bear the thought of losing that now. But he knows that if they ever find out just how much he feels, they'll be freaked out and...well, he's sure they'll be nice about it, but he knows what will happen. He doesn't ever want to see that kind of pity in their eyes.

Asami doesn't miss anything. Haru knows that. So he knows that he _has_ to figure out some way to pull back, to get his inappropriate feelings under control. He can't go on being so pathetic, intruding into the lives of the two people that have been so accepting and generous toward him.

The anxiety claws at him, and Haru curls up in a miserable ball on the bed. Oh, how he wishes he was Asami's because Asami would thrash it out of him, he's sure. His phone is still in his hand, and Haru switches to Asami's messages, a precious few he hoards and reads late at night. Asami would pull him over his lap and spank him until Haru couldn't help but let go. He wouldn't stop until Haru had sobbed it all out, and then...and then...he would...

NO.

Haru throws the phone on the bed, and sits up. This has got to stop. The temptation to drop his halfhearted plans for the night is strong, but he won't do that. It's what he needs to do. What he _has_ to do. Resolving himself, despite the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Haru showers and dresses.

The mirror shows a pale-faced boy, nervously tugging at his shirt and twisting around to look at himself in the tight leather pants he bought just for the occasion rather than his usual more conservative slacks or jeans. They perfectly hug the curves of his ass.

Shit, he looks like a rent-boy. Haru blushes, even though he's the only one there to see. No way can he pull this off.

It doesn't matter, he thinks defiantly. His chin lifts and he glares at himself. You need all the help you can get, so you're not changing.

It's just a club. So what if it's a club catering to a specific clientele. There are tons of them in Tokyo. It's no big deal. He refuses to be intimidated or back down like a frightened little kid. Maybe he'll love it. Maybe he'll even let someone spank him there.

He'll prove to Asami-sama and Akihito that he's not so pathetic that he can't do this, that he's not going to cling to them forever. Maybe he'll meet someone and hit it off. Maybe...maybe he can find what Asami-sama and Akihito have. At least, some of it. Anything has to be better than sitting around wishing for things that won't happen.

Before he can change his mind, he sends Akihito a quick text.

[Hi, Aki. Finished the last of my projects today, but I'm sorry I can't make it tonight. I...]

His thumb hovers over the buttons a second, and Haru takes a breath and releases it.

[...have plans. I'm going to a club in Shinjuku. Not just a nightclub. A...]

He goes red again just typing it.

[...BDSM club. 'Cause I've been thinking about what you said. About me not having done anything. You're right. It's not like I have an excuse. I'm not a kid anymore. So...yeah. I'm doing it. It's called Black Rose. I'll text you later to let you know it went.]

His heart starts drumming hard, but he forces himself to hit send. There's no backing out now.

It's not more than thirty seconds later when a text comes through from Akihito.

[are u crazy?? u cant go alone! ill talk to Asami if u really want to do this we can go with u in a few days or something but I didn't mean that u sh]

The text cuts off abruptly, and Haru figures Akihito accidentally sent it off before he meant to. He was obviously typing fast and sloppy. He doesn't wait for the follow up he knows is probably coming. The mention of Asami sends him into a mild state of panic. He doesn't want to talk to him about this. He just _can't_ right now. Not yet. Not until it's over, and he has something he can show them for it.

God, he was stupid to say anything at all yet. What if it's a complete bomb? What if no one is even interested? The humiliation of having to endure their consoling words after that would be unbearable.

But Akihito didn't have to call him crazy. Haru feels a little hurt by that even though he knows Akihito is just being over protective. It shows him even more that he needs to do this.

He shoots off a quick text, ignoring the guilt that prods his conscience.

[Sorry, going in to the club now. It's loud. Probably won't be able to hear my phone, so I'll talk to you later.]

His phones beeps a few seconds later. He doesn't look. It beeps about five times in the next minute, but Haru resists the urge to read any of them. Then it starts ringing.

After a moment, he sighs and puts on his coat. It's time to go. Before he leave he turns off his phone and slips it into his pocket.

He takes the train, which has a stop only a few blocks from the club. The facade is unassuming, but a wave of nervousness still sweeps over him. When the doorman shoots him a funny look, Haru stiffens his resolve and goes in.

The inside is in stark contrast to the outside. The lower level is dark and intimate, with opulent seating areas scattered through the large room and breaking it into smaller spaces. Other alcoves and small stages are placed throughout. They're lit by brighter, but soft and flattering lighting.

The various activities taking place in each one make Haru's cheeks heat, and he looks away quickly. But he can't avoid the sounds of leather hitting flesh or the soft cries of those strapped to crosses and bent over benches.

The upper level seems to be a terrace that rings the room below, allowing guests to look down on the activities below. He can see people drinking and talking up there, and he hopes with all his might that he can find a free table because he can't help but notice the eyes that have turned toward him, noting him curiously.

A neon sign on his forehead that flashed 'newbie' couldn't make him more self-conscious than he already feels, so he makes his way quickly up the stairs and sighs in relief when he finds a small, empty table in the corner.

Before too long, a waiter comes and hands him a drink menu. "Are you playing tonight?"

"Excuse me?" Haru says in confusion.

"Are you playing?" The waiter waves toward one of the illuminated stages where a naked, muscular man is shackled to a large, x-shaped cross.

"Ohh..." Haru blushes and looks anywhere but at the waiter. "I...I don't know."

"Well, our non-alcoholic cocktails are this side. The flip side has the real deal. No alcohol if you're playing. Club rules."

Haru nods. "I'll...I'll just have a coke, please." The thought of alcohol on top of his already nervous stomach makes Haru feel vaguely ill.

The waiter nods and walks off.

The next hour is the longest in his life. Perhaps if he'd been invisible, the experience might have been enjoyable. That is, if he could actually watch the little scenes playing out down below for longer than a few seconds at a time.

But he finds it excruciatingly embarrassing to watch those intimate moments of people he doesn't know, especially as he's all alone himself. It's even worse when he accidentally meets someone's eye, and then all he can think about is what they think of him being here by himself and doing nothing but watching (or not watching) from his little semi-hiding place.

To add to his discomfort, he finds himself having to deflect a few come-ons that really leave him feeling dejected. One guy was obviously interested in only one thing--how soon he could separate Haru from his pants. Actually, his wishes didn't even go that far, given his suggestion for Haru to join in the bathroom for a quick fuck in the stall.

The next man who approaches him next seems nice enough, but he's not Haru's type at all. It's not like he expects to find anyone remotely like Asami-sama, but still. He politely turns down the man's offer to show him what a English riding crop feels like. At least, the man takes his refusal in stride and kindly wishes him a good evening.

Somehow that makes him feel even worse. He was stupid to come. He doesn't fit in. Doesn't even know how to act here. He wishes he had gone to see Aki tonight instead, but that would have just made things worse.

He's just about convinced himself to go home when someone speaks behind his shoulder.

"Excuse me."

A tall, attractive man in a nicely tailored suit is smiling down at him. He's older than Haru, maybe thirty. His dark hair is swept back from his face, and his expression is warm and friendly.

"Forgive me for saying so, but I've been watching you for a while and you look pretty uncomfortable. First time, right? I thought you might appreciate a friendly face to talk to, but if I'm being presumptuous..."

His voice is a rich, reassuring baritone, and Haru likes the sound of it immediately.

He pauses, giving Haru the opportunity to demur. Instead, Haru finds himself asking the man to sit down at the tiny table. He's surprised to find that his heart is beating a little faster.

"Do I really look so pathetic?"

The man laughs. "Not at all. You just look like you haven't been here before."

"You're right about that," Haru says ruefully.

"Have you ever been to a place like this?" The question doesn't seem intrusive coming from this man. His gaze is full of concerned curiosity, and it eases some of Haru's reserve.

"No." He blushes and looks down at his hands. "It's...it's different than I thought it would be?"

"Really? How so?"

Haru's darts a quick look at the man, but only sees the same warm interest.

"I...I don't know. I just don't think I should've come."

"Why did you come?"

The question is something of a shock, and Haru stares a moment until the man begins to apologize.

"No...it's okay. I just..." Haru bites his lower lip and looks away. "I guess I was looking for something, but..." He shakes his head.

"I could say something trite about how we often find what we're looking for when we least expect it, but I have a feeling you might hit me right now if I do."

Haru can't help but laugh. "Yeah, probably."

"Then I won't say it, but I will say that I'm glad you did come tonight. My own evening was going rather badly until you invited me to sit down."

"Really?" A flush of warmth spreads in chest, even if the man is just feeding him what he thinks he wants to hear.

"Really." His mouth quirks. "May I ask your name?"

"Oh! Yes, sorry!" Haru introduces himself with an embarrassed little grin. "I'm Ito Haruki."

"It's a pleasure, Ito Haruki. My name is Murakawa Koji."

"It's nice to meet you, Murakawa-san."

"Can I get you another drink, Ito-kun?"

"No, thank you. I've already had about five cokes because I was so nervous." Haru grins sheepishly, reddening when Murakawa-san chuckles.

The second hour passes much more pleasantly and quickly than the first. Murakawa is smart and funny and kind, and Haru finds himself talking freely to him. He'd been right. The relief of a friendly face after that excruciating beginning was like a balm to his nerves.

Murakawa, just a very little bit, reminds him of Asami-sama, and so when the conversation gently turns to the things that brought Haru here, he speaks as truthfully as possible.

Oh, he doesn't talk about Akihito or Asami-sama, though his heart pangs as he thinks of them, and he wonders what they're doing right then. He wishes for a fleeting, futile moment that he was with them, but then he shakes himself and makes himself turn his full attention to Murakawa-san.

Murakawa-san listens so nicely, is so comforting, that when the conversation shifts to this more personal level, Haru doesn't shy away. When Murakawa-san speaks of what he seeks, an aching longing stirs inside Haru. When that low, rich voice whispers close to Haru's ear, speaking of possibilities for that evening, for next week, for the future, Haru listens and ignores his heart's quiet revolt.

"Shall we go then?" Murakawa-san asks.

Haru nods. "Excuse me a minute, I'll be right back."

In the bathroom, he takes out his phone. He doesn't look at the unread texts or listen to the voicemails, he couldn't bear it now, but he does send a quick message to Akihito to keep him from worrying.

[Met someone nice. Going for coffee nearby. Don't worry.]

He shuts off his phone again, and heaves a deep sigh.

This is a good thing. It is. Haru looks at himself in the mirror over the sink and makes himself smile.

Murakawa-san stands when he returns. "Ready?"

"Yes," Haru says simply.

"Are you sure? Because--"

"I'm sure." Haru smiles up at Murakawa-san. "Let's go."


	3. Dubious Rescue at Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fearful for Haruki's safety, Akihito shows Asami his text messages and, unable to reach Haru, they rush to the rescue. Asami encounters a monster in a man suit and his rage consumes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE1 This chapter contains a non-consensual spanking. Asami loses his temper and, briefly, his mind. He punishes Haru for risking his life and safety, though Haru does not belong to him and the therefore doesn't have the right to do it. Please be cautious in reading if nonconsent is a trigger of any kind for you.
> 
> I do not now and never will condone non-consensual sexual acts or BDSM acts. What Asami does to Haru here is inexcusable, and that is something he IS going to be able to recognize and atone for. He is human, and has a temper when it comes to the things he cares about being put at risk or harmed. He makes a mistake. People always will. I don't want to portray Asami as some kind of perfect, godlike lover. In this chapter, his fear and anger make him all too human and he screws up.

Horrified and furious, Akihito strares incredulously at the screen of his phone. At the unbelievable message Haru has sent, as well as the frantic and unanswered messages Aki followed it with. How could he…how could he even THINK about letting someone else touch him! He belongs to US, thinks Akihito. He’s terrified too, because he KNOWS how badly Haru wants what he and Asami have…possibly how bad Haru wants him and Asami…and he’s afraid his friend’s judgment is impaired. What if the man who’s picked him up is a predator?

All of this flits through his mind in about two seconds as he flies to the living room where Asami is watching some kind of business report on television. He looks up when Aki runs to him, gasping. To his concerned questions about what’s wrong, Aki replies by simply shoving the phone into his hands. Asami reads, drops the phone, takes out his own and rapidly fires of what is surely a very demanding text message. He doesn’t wait long before dialing Haru’s cell. When there is no answer, he rings Suoh and curtly orders the car to be brought round.

“Come,” he says to Akihito, and heads swiftly for the front door. Aki’s never seen him come this close to actually running.

“What’s Black Rose?” he asks, once they’re in the limo and speeding through the dark.

“Fetish club,” snarls Asami.

“He can’t be thinking of going home with some strange Top who picked him up at a place like that,” says Aki in disbelief. “I mean, okay, coffee like he says…maybe that’s ok, but it could still be someone who likes to…take advantage of innocent guys like Haru…and who won’t take no for an answer….”

“Akihito,” says Asami with as much patience as he can muster, “people who participate publicly in this lifestyle are no more or less likely to be psychotic rapists or killers than a room full of bus drivers.”

Aki gapes at him.

“You think I’m trying to say that? Asami…I’d feel the same way if he texted me he met a guy at a regular bar and was gonna go out for coffee with him later. Haru’s OURS and nobody else gets to touch him.”

“Well,” mutters Asami darkly, “he’s going to wish he HAD gone home with this man if I catch him before they leave. Tch. Little fool.” He rolls down the partition and snarls at Suoh to drive faster. Suoh does, and within 15 more minutes they’ve arrived at the club. Akihito is feeling frantic by the time they pull up, biting at his cuticles and bouncing his knees in agitation. Asami never fidgets, but his own anger and worry is apparent in the tension in his jaw and shoulders, and in the clenched fists he has placed squarely in his lap. They get out of the limo and head for the door, Aki already going over in his head what on earth they’re going to do if Haru has already left with the man. They’re about 15 feet from the door when it opens. A rush of heavy, throbbing music spills out over them, and they pause to avoid colliding with the couple exiting the club. A tall, well-built man in his mid-thirties with dark hair and shrewd eyes guides a younger, slender man out the door with a hand at the small of his back. The angle of the entryway’s roof and carved stone walls and the location of the nearby street lights are such that the upper part of the doorway is illuminated while the lower is cast in shadow. The tall man is slightly behind the younger man and is looking down at him with an expression on his face that makes Aki shudder a little for the hapless partner. The look is undisguised hunger, but it is not a pleasant look. It speaks of gluttony and selfishness rather than honest lust and sharing. The older man is well-dressed, in a dark, button-down shirt that may be silk, snug-fitting black jeans that look expensive, and a thick black leather belt with a belt buckle the size of Aki’s fist. His long black coat is leather, and there is a heavy platinum chain around his neck with a BDSM symbol pendant hanging from it much like the one Akihito has only very occasionally seen Asami wear. The greedy-looking man’s partner turns to look back at him and the man erases his disturbing expression in a heartbeat, smiling easily and encouragingly at the boy he’s with, and murmuring something kind. At that moment they step out of the shadow of the club’s overhanging entrance and the boy, whose face has been in shadow (all Aki has been able to tell about him is that he’s wearing a pair of black leather pants that both make Aki’s balls ache in sympathy and make him wish the guy would turn around so he could see his ass) steps out so that the street lights illuminate his face as well as they did the taller man’s face from the entrance.

It is Haru. Aki notices that Asami has gone very still. It is a stillness Aki has felt from him before, and his blood runs cold. Though he does not move, Akihito feels as though Asami vibrates deep inside with a rage so all-consuming that it paralyzes him momentarily. He looks from Asami’s stony face to the strange man’s. He has noticed them, and is staring at Asami in shock. Akihito thinks his expression also looks frightened and angry.

“What are you doing here, _Ryuichi,_ ” he sneers, using the familiar in a derisive tone.

“I’ve come to fetch my property,” says Asami coolly. “And I’ll thank you to take your hand off him, _Koji.”_

“What, this?” says the man, looking down his nose at Haru, who is staring at Asami with wide, terrified eyes and his mouth hanging open. “How careless of you to let a babe in the woods such as this slip its tether. You should be grateful. I’ll be happy to break  him in for you.”

Asami tenses for a second and then he moves so quickly Akihito’s not even sure he sees him do it. He is just quite suddenly across the few feet of sidewalk separating them and has twisted the person he called Koji’s arm behind his back (painfully if his outraged yowl of pain is any indication) and slammed him into the wall. He leans forward.

“I wouldn’t let you touch a DOG, let alone a human being who belongs to me, even if he does make astonishingly foolish choices from time to time. Not even a dog I didn’t LIKE.  Now, you have three seconds to be heading for your car. You will leave and make sure I never see your face again. If I find out you return to this club from any of my multiple sources, there will not be enough left of your reputation and business holdings to fill a teacup.” He lets the man go, and watches while he stumbles, then catches himself and hurries away. His back is to Akihito and Haru, who has sidled closer to Aki during the confrontation. He stays like that for a few seconds that seem more like minutes, his entire body rigid.

“A-Asami-sama,” whispers Haru in a tiny, scared voice. This seems to galvanize Asami, who spins on his heel to face them.

“Don’t. Speak,” he snarls. Then he stalks past them towards the limo. Haru looks at Aki, obviously horridly distressed. Aki turns to follow Asami, tilting his head at Haru in a come-on gesture. Haru, however, seems rooted to the spot. Asami, standing by the back door, doesn’t raise his voice, but he is easy to hear over the late-night Tokyo traffic anyway, and the sound makes Haru recoil as though he’s been slapped. “Get in the FUCKING car, Haruki.” He obeys despite his fear, scuttling in behind Akihito with his eyes downcast and his shoulders hunched. Asami steps in, sits down, orders Suoh to drive, and without another word, grabs Haru by the arm and yanks him across the seat to tumble in a sprawl across Asami’s lap. He has to struggle a little with the leather pants, and Aki finds himself having very inappropriate thoughts considering the seriousness of the situation because DAMN but his ass looks amazing in them. They’re rather tight, but after a brief period of wrenching and tugging, Asami gets them down to the middle of Haru’s thighs. Haru speaks again at this point, despite having been advised not to, protesting Asami’s rude treatment.

“I did not tell you to speak,” hisses Asami, fury radiating from his every pore. “You will keep your fucking mouth shut until I’m ready to hear from you. Except,” he adds as an afterthought, “you can cry if you like. This is going to hurt a lot.”

With that he proceeds to give the worst hand-spanking Akihito has ever seen. Not that he’s seen many of them…and has received a lot more than he’s witnessed, but he knows damned well Asami has never slapped his ass as hard as he’s slapping Haru’s. Feilong never cared much for hand-spankings, he has always craved the sharp bite of toys that slash and sting, but he’s still had his share, and Aki’s never even seen Asami spank FeiFei as hard as he’s spanking Haru right now. His palm cracks down viciously, peppering poor Haru’s helpless bottom and the backs of his legs with fast, angry spanks. After the first few minutes, he starts to speak.

“In case you’re interested,” he says angrily, not losing his rhythm, “I’ll tell you what you would have been in for tonight if you’d gone home with Murakawa. He’s a sexual sadist. He’s careful in the clubs. He never does anything that overtly breaks the rules, so he’s never banned from any of them. He looks for the single subs, the new ones, the more fresh and innocent the better. He’s kind to them, eases their nervousness. When he gets them home with him…usually under the kindly guise of showing them his dungeon and the toys, a no-pressure tour where they can see what it’s like, touch things and ask questions but he won’t even consider playing them until they know him better, and a detailed conversation about their limits and phobias so that he won’t inadvertently trigger them (he prefers to do it on purpose)…he gets them tied up and gagged so fast they don’t know what hit them.” Asami glances at Aki, and the photographer recognizes the tightening around Asami’s eyes that is his wince of chagrin at what he’s saying…compared to what he has done in the past. Aki would like to stop him and tell him AGAIN that he’s long since forgiven that, but he doesn’t think it’s quite the right time.  Asami continues his description. “He’d have removed your ability to use a safeword, and he wouldn’t have been careful in binding you, so that it’s likely your circulation would have been affected. He’d have beaten every inch of your skin with a ten foot, lead-handled, shot loaded kangaroo hide bullwhip until your blood ran in pretty red ribbons all over your body. He’d have done as many of the things on your list of hard limits as he feasibly could so as to terrorize you, pissed into your open cuts, raped you repeatedly…he’s not very big, but he has toys that are. ..and then he’d have given you drugs that messed with your memory and been able to provide a very detailed one-night D/s contract in which everything he’d done to you the night before was negotiated and agreed-upon by both of you.”

Asami keeps right on spanking Haru so hard his cries of pain are like tiny daggers in Aki’s heart. He can see though, that despite how angry he is…and his reaction is obvious now that he has shared what he knows about the man Haru narrowly escaped being taken by…he is not bruising the boy’s tender skin. He’s spanking him raw, so fast and hard that Haru’s bottom looks BOILED, and Haru’s reaction makes it pretty clear the spanking hurts terribly. The butter-soft leather pants framing his reddened legs and bottom make quite a picture, and Aki feels like a jerk when his traitorous dick begins to harden as he watches.  Despite his body’s purely physical reaction to what is happening to poor Haru, Akihito is horrified by what Asami says. When he thinks about all those terrible things being done to their Haruki, it makes him want to throw up. He imagines those expressive blue eyes dulled by pain and horror, all that lovely fair skin that reddens so beautifully, torn and bloody. He imagines fingers purpled by ruptured blood vessels and circulation loss. He stops imagining because he’s making himself physically ill with the horror of it. Suddenly, rather than growing annoyed with Asami for his harsh treatment of Haruki, he rather feels as though Asami is showing remarkable self-restraint.

And then he thinks…Haru…you went to someone ELSE…to a STRANGER! Not to me, or more appropriately, to Asami…why? What did you need that we couldn’t give you?? Can’t you see I love you? How could you??

Asami stops the blitz attack on Haru’s poor bare bottom and sits there, head down, the hand he’d used to light a fire in the boy’s ass clenched tightly in a fist that rests atop the blazing mounds of Haru’s backside.

“Haru,” says Asami, his voice a bit hoarse with emotion, which is really a great shock unto itself as Asami is not a man who tips his hand , “when I saw you…saw who you were with…you see, I knew Murakawa many years ago when he was less discrete than he is now, and less cunning. There was a girl my trainer took in to teach along with me during the last few months of my time with him. She was a deep submissive, but she had been so badly abused by her Dominant, with whom she’d recently found the courage to split, that many of the behaviors and ceremonies and small details most subs take in stride as simple paralyzed her instead. We had known her before she met Murakawa, when he had accompanied me back to Japan on one of my vacations from University, and she had been a bright, energetic, eager young girl who my Trainer said had immense potential. He was even interested in her himself.  When we saw the condition she was in, with half-healed scabs and bruises and scars…and when we saw the blatant fear in her eyes when he tested her a little…instructing her to kneel, to assume various positions…and she went into a state of either neat catatonia or sheer panic with little ever….he said of course. Of course I will help you. She refused to press charges, no matter what was said to her. She wanted to forget, and she didn’t want to put her family through the humiliation. And he…he almost got his hands on you, Haru. What on earth were you thinking? How could you do such a thing?”


	4. Conflict. Resolution.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru can no longer contain his emotions or hide his feelings. He implodes, and Asami must try to put him back together again, hoping it is not too late and that he hasn't hurt Haru too much to salvage the thing he and Akihito want so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, my partner-in-crime and I decided to deviate from her writing one chapter and me another. She felt, and I agreed, that we needed the boys to react to each other's words and actions more frequently at this point, so this chapter is co-written with the same format as our initial roleplays. I've written from Asami and Akihito's points of view while Haru's point of view is hers. Hope you enjoy!

Haru’s response is not at all what either of them would have anticipated, and is in fact quite spectacular. He lunges out of Asami’s lap and tumbles to his knees on the floorboard of the limo, yanking his pants back up and swiping at his wet face with the back of his left hand.

 

“How could I?” he cries, his voice shrill with pain and rage and humiliation. Because he should have known. Oh, he should have known it was too good to be true, for someone would truly be interested in _him_. And, of course, the two people whose good opinion he most wants are there to witness his shame, the degrading spectacle of his worthlessness.

 

But the import of Asami’s horrifying revelation is completely subsumed within the huge and shattering anguish of being treated so harshly when he was only trying to do his very best to protect what he had with them. The unfairness of it staggers him, hurts him deeply, and a he lashes out with an instinctive, child-like indignation, explosive in its simple expression.

 

 “How could _I_? What about you? _You_ have no right to do this! I don’t belong to you! You said so yourself! ” His eyes are wild, and he stares defiantly into Asami’s face, even though his lips tremble on the words. “How…how could _you_?”

 

And he bursts into tears.

 

Huge, hiccupping sobs wrack his slender frame as he hunches over his knees on the floor at Asami’s feet. Asami and Akihito stare at him in shock and total silence.

 

Haru feels it all falling apart around him, everything he’d been trying so desperately to salvage. The inevitability of it fills him with a numbing despair. His physical pain, the emotional tumult fades to a consuming, terrible ache that settles in his chest and throbs with the slow beat of a funeral march.

 

“Was it so wrong?” he cries in voice that sounds ripped from his raw throat. “I was just…” he sobs out his words. “I was just _trying_ to…to…”

 

The torrent of tears intensifies, and Haru bends double, burying his face in his knees.  He’s beyond mortification that he’s lost control so completely, come apart at the seams, all his fears and weakness and _wrongness_ left exposed.

 

“I’m…I’m _s-sorry_ …I o-only w-wanted to s-stop…s-top intruding…” The words come thick and disjointedly, wretched in their hitched elocution. “K-knew it w-was…w-w-wrong…b-but I…c-couldn’t m-make them g-go away…m-my…f-feelings…b-but _p-please_ …”

 

Haru’s raises his wet face, blindly seeking their faces. “P-please d-don’t…please don’t…”  He can’t even finish the words, as if giving voice to them would banish him immediately. “I-I’ll….t-try h-h-harder…I w-will…”

  

Asami stares down at Haru’s patently unfeigned misery and it breaks through the fear for Haruki’s safety that has been fueling his rage. Seeing their Haru with that bastard had been horrible. The very thought of something so defiled laying hands on Haru’s sweetness had made his vision go white with rage. What Haru’s saying pierces through his anger like a hot wire and guilt burns in his chest. He’s laid his hands on this boy in anger without his consent, when he has no right to force Haru to accept his punishment OR his anger. He realizes suddenly, in the face of the raw GRIEF on Haru’s face that he honestly has no idea whatsoever how Asami and Akihito feel.  He glances at Akihito, who is staring at him urgently, the expression on his face clearly saying, “Fix! This!”

Asami does the only thing he really knows to do when the lover he’s supposed to calm is incapable of listening to reason. He reaches down and hauls Haru into his lap, ignoring the incoherent sobs, and he kisses him. He kisses him like Asami has been drowning his whole life and Haru is air. He kisses him like he will devour the boy whole, like he will die without Haru’s taste on his tongue. Mostly, he kisses him until he stops crying. Haru struggles, but Asami isn’t having it. He puts his anger and frustration and how much he’d like to lick Haru all over because FUCK those pants, and his annoyed affection and how pissed he is that this could have been avoided if  Haru had only been less busy the past week into the kiss. It is ruthless, and unfair, because he knows Haru can’t resist it. And it’s true, because Haru soon begins to kiss him back with a despairing moan. This fixes nothing, of course, but it stops the boy’s collapse.

“Haru,” says Akihito when he can be heard because Haru’s not sobbing or babbling incoherently anymore, “you are an idiot.”

Asami almost chokes on his own tongue because this sounds like something HE would say, not his kind and compassionate Akihito. Haru makes an affronted sound and pulls away from the kiss long enough to give Aki a wounded look. Asami doesn’t like the look, because there is apology in it, as though this priceless boy is agreeing he’s an idiot and is sorry for it.

“Perhaps you’ll consent to let me handle this, Akihito,” he says with a bit of amusement.

“Oh…yeah, I guess it is kinda your….place…or whatever,” agrees Aki, and subsides, but his arms are crossed and he’s looking very severely at Haruki.

“Do you know why Akihito kept trying to make plans with you, Haru-kun?” asks Asami softly. He’ll have some things to say to Haru later about spanking him, and some of those things will include an apology, but he also knows that if this conversation goes well, Haru’s pert little ass isn’t anywhere close to done being punished tonight.

Haru says something muffled and indistinct about Aki being a good friend.

“Mm. Well, contrary to what you seem to believe, we don’t actually spend time with you out of pity or the kindness of our hearts, you silly boy.”

Haru peeks at him suspiciously, and Asami, whose heart isn’t at all as hard or cold as some people think, feels the same warm, baffled affection and protectiveness welling up inside him that he gets when Akihito is snuggled up to him with his heart on his sleeve for Asami to see, or he is emotional from very intense lovemaking or right after he’s been spanked. He sighs, and brushes tears off Haru’s cheek with his thumb.

“Akihito and I have talked about it, and we both agreed immediately that the thought of not having you in our lives is rather a distressing one. We also agreed that the idea of you finding someone else…and the thought of him touching you…made us want to hurt someone. As in, the man who has the nerve to touch you….followed nearly immediately by your own cute little ass for daring to let another man touch what belongs to us.”

Haru’s eyebrows knit, his confusion and uncertainty are palpable as he tries to wrap his mind around what Asami is saying. A spasmodic shudder hitches his chest, an after effect of the intense crying.

 

“I…” He looks to Akihito, who is all but glaring at him, and flinches away from the stern gaze.  He can’t bring himself to meet Asami’s eyes again, so he stares at the top button of Asami’s shirt. It’s undone and the hollow of Asami’s throat peeks through the white fabric. From what he’s seen of Asami, the man never presents anything less than an impeccable front in public. A surge of guilt assails Haru, but his uncertainty grows. Was he really responsible for that? “I don’t understand,” he whispers.

 

He’s not even sure if what he heard is what Asami actually said, or if he’s just in such a muddle that his mind is filling in the blanks with things he’s so desperately wanted to hear. Surely, he has to be misunderstanding. “What…what do you mean?”

  


“Triads aren’t for everyone,” says Asami, not really acknowledging Haru’s questions. “It might be too strange for you, and that’s all right. You must know…this is a package deal. You cannot have one of us without the other. Being careful of not one but TWO people’s wants, needs and desires is never simple. You have to balance everybody’s need for privacy with their need for one-on-one time with each other and the necessity of all three of you spending plenty of quality time without anyone feeling left out to fuel the relationship so it doesn’t go stale or become more work than it’s worth. You really do need to know all of that, because if you know you’re too jealous or needy, or if you prefer to be alone a lot, it isn’t the choice for you, and I do want you to make an educated one. And yet, for all the difficulties, triads are also very rewarding. Let’s be honest. The odds of one single person possessing every quality you look for in a mate and being able to meet every one of your needs and desires are vanishingly unlikely. No one person is that perfect. We compromise, because a man or woman who has most or even just several of the things you’re looking for is something to celebrate. But if you are in a healthy relationship with more than one person, it doubles your odds of finding everything you want. Do you see?”

Haru looks at him dazedly and Asami is pretty sure the little head wobble is a nod, so he plows ahead, trying to explain a terribly complex issue to the poor boy before his heart breaks because he doesn’t understand how much they want him. Asami won’t push him for an answer without trying his best to explain what Haru’s getting into.

“Well, here’s an example. Akihito is almost exclusively  a sub. He isn’t a terribly obedient one, but he’s definitely more than a bottom who likes pain play. He loves rough sex and being naughty and knowing that I’ll protect him…even from himself when he’s being obstinate and foolish. He likes to roleplay and he has an exhibitionist streak. I meet all of those needs in him. However, I am an extremely pushy Dominant, and I have no interest in bottoming now or ever again, and I don’t need him to protect me fro anything. Aki has a protective streak. He likes taking care of someone. And he likes topping. I do not mean that as in tying people up and punishing and tormenting them, I mean as in taking the role of the top in sex. He likes to fuck someone sometimes, not just to be fucked. I cannot give him those things. Now do you understand?”

Akihito sighs in exasperation and, rolling his eyes, slides into the seat next to them.

“Asami, you’re confusing him more. When he said what do you mean, you skipped the most important part of the thing and started explaining the question without asking it. He doesn’t…oh hell.”

He reaches over and touches Haru’s face gently, his fingertips ghosting over damp cheeks and wet lips, brushing soft black hair off his sweaty forehead. Haru stares at him. The aching vulnerability on his face is heartwrenching.

“I’m not very good at this,” he says softly. Asami thinks privately to himself that Aki is actually very, VERY good at this, and that even when he tries to talk about things he can’t put into words and grows flustered, there is still an eloquence to the things he can’t or doesn’t say that manages to convey his point anyway. He keeps quiet though, and waits to see what Akihito is going to say. “Asami’s the smooth talker. It’s just…you’re NOT the only one who couldn’t make their feelings go away. The reason I kept calling and texting you this whole week was because we wanted to tell you…well, all that stuff Asami just said about triads, except…you know…in the right order so you wouldn’t be confused…and we…” Asami sees Aki’s throat work as he swallows hard. He closes his eyes and clenches his fists, steeling himself to lay himself out at Haru’s mercy. “We wanted to a-ask you something. You don’t have to say yes if it’s not what you want, but we do. Want it. I mean, want YOU. We wanted to ask you to be with us. Not…not like a one-night stand. Like…we…oh, I’m fucking this up.”

“Well, that’s perhaps because we want a number of things, and they make the question hard to simplify,” says Asami, deciding that if they wait for Akihito to explain this, they’re still going to be beating around this particular bush next week. “Haru-kun…Akihito would like to be your boyfriend. I’d like to be your lover. He would like to be your big brother and your friend and your partner in crime. We do not want to let you go. We don’t want you to meet anyone else. Haruki…I want very much to be your Master. “

Complete silence reigns for several seconds, except for the low hum of the car’s smooth engine. When Haru finally opens his mouth as if he’s about to speak, no words come out. Instead, it remains poised half open for a moment as if his thoughts haven’t caught up to his body. Then his eyes well up and his face contorts rather alarmingly, and he sobs out some garbled word they can’t even recognize.

 

Before they can say or do more, Haru grabs onto Asami’s shirt with both hands, clinging for dear life, and buries his wet, salt-tracked face in the soft, white fabric, covering his chest.

 

He cries. It’s unbelievable that he has any tears left, but he does. When Asami’s hands begin to card through his hair and stroke tenderly up and down his spine, he cries harder.

 

His Master...

 

_His_.

 

An elation he’s _never_ experienced before begins to sing through his veins. He tries to repress it because really…this _can’t_ be real. But it’s no use. His sob turns into a muffled, half-delirious laugh that doesn’t sound much different than the crying.

 

What had Asami-sama said? Can’t have one without the other? The half-mad laughter bubbles out of him again.

 

Haru tears himself unceremoniously from Asami’s embrace and throws his arms around Akihito, quickly rendering the collar of his shirt just as messy and wet as Asami’s. “R-really?  Do you really mean it?”

  


Asami has to just watch them for a minute, because it’s almost unbearably sexy watching them together. His brain flashes through pictures of them cuddling with him in the shambles of Aki’s bedroom after it was turned into a pillow fort, of them dancing together with their lithe bodies and their mouths on each other, of both their reddened backsides lifted for him to paddle and the way their combined cries and sobs had sounded to him, of watching Aki spanking Haru and their tongues tangling and their hands in each other pants and the way they’d sounded when they came…He closes his eyes and shakes the thoughts away and just watches Aki holding on to Haru fiercely, kissing him and petting him.

“We really mean it,” says Asami, still stroking Haru’s back while he cries and (Asami thinks) laughs into Akihito’s shirt…alas, not one of the Spongebob ones that could be deemed too stretched out and stained to keep (even if that is total bullshit, he only needs very flimsy excuses). “It’s not a spur of the moment reaction to seeing you with…someone else. We talked this over last week and have been trying to find time to tell you for days now. I won’t tell you it will be easy, pretty boy, but I believe it can be wonderful if you’re willing to work for it. I know that we are. Akihito is already threatening to hold a rummage sale and get rid of all my home office furniture and supplies so you’ll have space of your own. NOT that we’re saying you have to move in. We’d take things slowly. You have school to focus on, and we need to find out if we can even all get along. I won’t say I’m not hoping it will come to that, and we’ll have plenty of space if and when…but I won’t push you into it. It’s much too soon for that. You will already be giving up much of your personal time and freedom. I’m not always an easy Master, and Akihito is impulsive and likely to get you into trouble you wouldn’t have gotten into on your own.”

“I know it’s so much to ask,” whispers Akihito, his own eyes welling up with tears. Asami starts to wonder uncomfortably just how screwed he really is, because both of them with the waterworks…yeah, pretty screwed. It’s not that the crying bothers him. Oh no. Sometimes he REALLY likes the crying. It’s just that it also makes him want to slay dragons and let them keep stray puppies and buy them entire small countries if they want them because it’s so precious. Ah well. He’ll just make sure never, ever to TELL them what their tears do to him. “I can’t imagine why you’d want to share time with two people who are already in a…a relationship…instead of finding someone perfect and wonderful who adores you and no one else, because you deserve that Haru, you really do. Only…” He bites his lips and kisses Haru’s parted lips softly. “Only DON’T. Don’t, okay? Be with me, Haru, be with us.”

Oh, God. It isn’t even possible he could fall for Akihito even more, but he does right then. This is really happening, and Haru’s soaring spirits bubble out of him.

 

“Oh, I don’t know, Aki. Let me think about it,” Haru says. He pulls back and beams a daffy grin at Akihito. “You’re only offering me everything I ever wanted…hmm…what should I do?” He breaks into teary, giddy laughter again. “You know what my answer is. You _have_ to know.”

 

He looks at Asami, who has been able to see exactly what he’s thinking and feeling from the very beginning, and his smile fades to an earnestness that shines from his eyes. “And I’ll work hard, Asami-sama. I _promise_. I’ll do whatever it takes. I just…I can’t believe it, but, oh…I want it so much. I…” His face blooms a soft pink blush, but he doesn’t look away as he says softly, “I want to belong to you…to both of you.”

  


Asami lets them have a few minutes…all right, ALL of them, himself included, to be happy and excited. There’s rather a tempting pile of limbs and bodies, with kissing and giggles and his own chuckles thrown in as well.

“Are you SURE?” Aki keeps asking Haru, who keeps swearing that he is and asking them in turn if THEY’RE sure. He puts up with it for about a dozen repeats.

“Haru,” he says, grasping the boy’s jaw gently and covering his mouth with a thumb, “We. Are. Sure. Hear me? Ask again at your peril.”

He looks at Aki, who blushes a little and shrugs with a grin. He points at the boy and grins back.

“Akihito. He’s sure. We’re all sure. Would you like me to peel you a ginger root when we get home and let you wear it while you write, ‘Yes I’m sure’ 500 times ?”

“Um,” says Aki wisely, and closes his mouth.

At this point, Haru has ended up BACK on Asami’s lap and Akihito is about half there as well, his leg over Asami’s thigh and his head on Asami’s shoulder.

“So,” says Asami into the quiet and relative calm as the limo glides silently to a halt in the parking garage. “Shall we?”

They pile out and ride the elevator to the very top, and he’s a little relieved that both of his boys…and isn’t that a hell of a thing? HIS boys. How marvelous. Both of his boys have sensed that there is something on his mind and they are quiet, holding hands and standing so close together that their heads touch and Aki’s light, sandy hair mixes with Haru’s glossy, raven’s wing black. How beautiful they are together, and part of him thinks he’ll just skip what is biting at his heels right now and enjoy what this night could be if he lets it. What he WANTS to let it be, so badly his balls ache just thinking about it. But for Haru’s sake, he can’t do that.

He leads them to the living room and they all sit on the sofa, both of their eyes watching his and waiting calmly.

“I’m happy you said yes, Haruki-kun. You do not know how much, although I intend to SHOW you when it is time.” He allows himself a dirty little smirk and enjoys the small gasp from Haru and the way he squirms a little.  “But if you belong to me, there is something we must discuss first.”

“Yes, Asami-sama,” says Haru instantly and without hesitation.

“First of all, I want to tell you that I am so sorry for spanking you in the limo tonight.”

Haru bushes and says it was nothing, that he deserved it.

“That is part of the point, little boy. I heartily agree that you deserved it, but I did not have the right to do it. You were not mine, and I violated your trust by doing something to you without your consent. I’m sorry for it. Will you forgive me?”

Haru does, and Asami hopes he’s not just saying it because he doesn’t think Asami can do ANYthing wrong.

“All right. Thank you. I shall do my best not to break your trust again. But now…Ito Haruki…now you ARE mine, and although I’m perhaps being a little retroactive, you did an exceedingly foolish thing tonight. Several foolish things. First…I want you to think about…and be honest with yourself…whether you lied or put us off in any way this week when Akihito kept trying to make plans with you. I can understand that you felt like you were intruding, but it was not for you to decide. If we’d felt you were an intrusion, we were perfectly capable of…oh, let me see…NOT inviting you over all the time? We could have told you days ago how we felt. I do not want you to torment yourself over this, because we are here NOW, and that is what matters, but I want you to be honest with me and with yourself. Second, you went alone to a BDSM club you’d never visited before. You didn’t know anything about its clientele, whether it was a safe place to be alone, what sort of unwritten protocols and such it has. There are clubs where certain colored clothing mean something, or the way you sit or WHERE you sit says something. You didn’t tell anyone in advance, or set up a safety plan. Akihito should have known well in advance what you were planning, not minutes before. You left the club with a stranger without anyone knowing exactly where you were going. Only a vague idea. This is the part where normally I would make a bit of a speech about how the person MIGHT have been a bad man, or MIGHT have harmed you…or might have been a perfectly nice person. But Haru-kun…I know that man. He WOULD have hurt you. Raped you and damaged your body. And your body belongs to ME now. In my guilt over what I did to you in the limo, and because I am…rather eager to get to the part where I don’t have to wait anymore to shove my cock up your cute little pink asshole and you scream…I seriously considered dropping the subject entirely. But shall we be honest? The handspanking you’ve had would have been sufficient for…putting us off earlier in the week. But not for the risk you took. You didn’t do it on purpose and you didn’t know how dangerous it really was, and you certainly didn’t leave with a predator on purpose, but a severe punishment will make sure you DO understand. Because at the time you made those choices, you had not yet agreed to belong to me….and Haru…I VERY much enjoy saying those words…that you belong to me…I shall let you decide if it is just to punish you. If you feel it’s not, you’d resent me for doing it and I won’t start things off that way.  So the choice is yours, pretty boy. Do you deserve to be punished or not?”

 

 

 


	5. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Haru pays the piper. Asami handles things much better this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a consensual, disciplinary spanking. Some BDSM relationships contain punishment, and some don't. Some play only with pretend punishment, because it's kind of sexy and hot. Some include an actual disciplinary dynamic. Asami and Akihito's relationship only very rarely includes real punishment, and it is reserved for serious things, like Akihito putting himself at risk (which he unfortunately does on numerous occasions). It's not fun for Aki, but he accepts it because Asami has explained to him that if he wants to be with Asami, he's going to have to accept the fact that it makes Asami insane when Aki risks life and limb unnecessarily and if he doesn't have serious consequences, it's going to kill Asami. As Haru's Master, Asami has the right to choose to punish him, but he doesn't remove either lover's right to use their safeword if they truly need to. It's simply not discussed every time. Never just assume your partner is going to be okay with an actual punitive session. It is fraught with emotional peril, and should be talked about in detail before you think of trying it out to see if it works in your dynamic. If you do implement disciplinary spankings or other physical punishment, do make sure you never blur the lines between that and play punishment. It will confuse the shit out of your sub and that can really come back on your later, if not right away

Asami's enumeration of Haru's evasiveness and bad choices brings out all the guilt he's been able to shove aside these past few hours. Part of Haru wants to blurt out that he's always been Asami-sama's, even if that was destined only to be in his very private fantasies, and that he could do anything he wanted and Haru wouldn't complain. But that's way too exposing, and he's pretty sure Asami isn't looking for that kind of response anyway.

 

It would be much easier if he _would_  accept that, and then Haru wouldn't have to bring himself to say more. But he's just promised to try his hardest, so he swallows, and his shame-faced gaze drops to his hands, which he brings together on his lap. His fingers knot and twist without him even realizing it.

 

"I...I wasn't completely honest about how busy I was," Haru admits. "And...and I waited on purpose until the last minute to tell Akihito because...well, for lots of reasons. But I..." Here, he looks up at Asami, regret clearly etched on his face. "I really didn't mean to make either one of you worry. I wasn't thinking about the bad things that could happen. But still...I knew that he'd worry a bit...and I..."

 

Haru bit his lip before confessing, "I turned off my phone so I wouldn't be able to see his texts."

 

He sneaks a sidelong look at Akihito, but he can't read either one of their faces, so he goes back to staring at his hands. "I'm sorry I...I lied and that I was so stupid and I didn't talk to you first, and I'm sorry that I...that I went with that man. I didn't want to...not really...I just thought it was I _should_ do _..._ and I'm really sorry that I put you through that...scared you."

 

Haru takes a deep breath after this tumble of words and looks up Asami beseechingly. "Please, Asami-sama, please punish me. I do deserve it. I'm so sorry. And...and I could _never_ resent you," he blurts the last. "I want...I want to be good...for you...so please..."

  


Asami picks Haru up and puts him on his lap with his head on Asami’s shoulder, and puts his arms around him. For a little while, he holds on to the boy’s body in what he hopes is perceived as kindness and reassurance. It isn’t that it’s entirely NOT those things, but in addition to them…Asami just needs a minute. On the surface it would seem to most that Haruki is a Dominant’s fantasy come true, and in some ways they would be right. He is sweet and innocent but not clueless. He is kind-hearted and eager to please. He tries to be honest, and is able to admit when he’s wrong or at fault. He doesn’t just tolerate or handle pain well, he loves it, given from the right hand. His sexual responses are honest and passionate and just downright hot as hell.

But owning a pet like Haru is also a little bit terrifying. He is a blank slate, and as the first to write on it, Asami is taking on a HUGE responsibility. Even if Haru isn’t a virgin (and Asami doesn’t think he is, though he’s definitely not very experienced), he IS still a blank slate, because whoever took his cherry…and oh you’re danm right Asami wishes it had been him…they didn’t touch what’s inside Haru, not really.  The marks and stories Asami draws on that slate will shape Haru, whether he knows it or not, and if Asami isn’t careful, the story he begins here could have a terrible ending. It would be so easy to hurt Haru, by something as simple as a poor choice in phrasing a sentence. Yes, he deserves to be punished. And he’s expecting it to be bad, and with Haru’s ability to handle pain, it will have to BE bad or the boy will feel cheated. But it will have to be bad in such a way as to not damage the boy’s soft heart. The blank canvas, untouched block of soft clay that is Ito Haruki pulls at Asami in a way nothing else does, and he cannot wait to be a part of whatever work of art Haru is going to become, because he IS going to be magnificent, as long as Asami doesn’t fuck up. Haru is no puppet. He has a brain, and a good one, and perhaps in this case as opposed to comparing him to an inanimate visual arts media, it would better be said that Haru is both the clay and the student, and as the teacher, Asami will be helping define what the student creates. He’s going to try not to fuck it up, and he’s going to enjoy the fuck out of everything he gets to do to this boy, but he’s got to admit to himself that it makes him a little nervous too. So…he takes a minute. Not only that, but he has to decide what he’s actually going to DO to the boy!

He sighs, and ghosts a kiss over the top of Haru’s head.

 

“It will have to be the cane,” he says softly. “I think  since Aki fears it so, I shall forever remove it from the play arsenal and reserve it for when some severity is required. We’ll make it a proper English punishment and you’ll have a dozen each with the cane, the tawse and a birch…since Feilong recently and graciously brought me a huge bundle of the twigs back from China when he came this time. His gardeners were pruning, apparently. You can thank him later.”

Haru’s eyes widen. He isn’t quite sure what a tawse or a birch are exactly, but he remembers the cane that Asami had laying across his lap that night when he and Aki had found him with the video footage of them kissing. He remembers Akihito’s sudden, shocked fear at the sight of it, and he remembers how intimidating it had looked, though he’s not sure if that was merely because it was in Asami’s possession.

 

He’s never been hit with such a thing and has no idea how it will feel, other than the certain knowledge that it will hurt a very great deal. None of these things matter because even though Haru is scared—there’s no getting away from that—he has no desire to avoid his punishment.

 

More than anything, he wants Asami’s touch, even if it’s in such a way. He wants to prove to how grateful he is to be there, to be given this incredible chance, and to show Asami how so very good he’ll try to be from now on. To earn Asami’s forgiveness and approval and affection, Haru feels like he could endure far more.

 

He has the sense, at least, not express that last thought because he’s seen enough of Asami’s character, his peculiar sense of humor, to know that he might not be at all averse to testing that feeling. And despite Haru’s willingness to subject himself to whatever Asami asks of him, he has enough self-preservation to keep silent when he’s already endured one very hard spanking that evening.

 

Haru looks at Akihito’s pale face set in worried, sympathetic lines, and that only confirms how bad it’s going to be. His hand trembles when Akihito takes it and holds it with both of his. The speaking look Akihito gives him makes him tremble inside too, but he smiles shakily in return, wanting to comfort him in return.

 

Asami is really going to punish him. Because Haru is now his.

His hand squeezes Akihito’s tightly, not because of fear this time, but because those facts make him almost light-headed with an intensity of emotion that he can’t even put into words. His chest aches with it

 

He looks at Asami, who seems to be drinking up every play of his expression.

 

“Will…will you do it now, Asami-sama?,” Haru asks in not much more than a whisper.

 

“Yes pretty boy, I will. I want you to stay right here with Aki.” Asami looks at Akihito, who is pale and tense beside Haru. “Aki, don’t frighten him. You’re very different people, and when it is called for, I will punish you each as befits both the transgression and your very separate personalities. I think you’d better stay though, as we are all in this together and he’s yours as much as mine, if in a different way. Do you understand?”

Aki nods once, jerkily, and sighs.

 

“I get it.  I do. Okay. You’re…you’re not taking him into the Room.” It’s not a question, more od a statement, as if Aki has read his intent. It’s possible that he has.

 

“No. Here, I think. The Room is a bit much to take in for a first time. We’ll show it to him when it’s for fun someday soon. I don’t want him to be afraid of it.”

 

Haru know the room they’re talking about, because Asami as overheard Akihito telling him about it. He leaves them huddled together on the sofa like disaster victims and goes to his pervert’s playground. It’s an absurd place, of course, and he’s glad he didn’t design it, but there’s no sense in not making use of it. Since it’s here anyway. He bypasses the terrifying and brutal Senior cane Haru saw across his knees after his night out with Aki and takes down a more slender model with a lot more flexibility. He checks the tawse for pliability and decides it doesn’t need oiled again yet, but that having Haru do it soon will remind him to be a good boy. He lays it down across his forearm and picks up the 5-gallon bucket filled with salt water he placed in the corner 2 days ago. A wrapped bundle of slender branches sticks out of the bucket. Its ends, a widespread bunch of slender, green twigs, are soaking in the brine to keep them from becoming brittle. The salt water both gives them an antiseptic effect when the little ends and buds of the twigs abrade skin, and stings like hot pepper oil in said abrasions. In the days when the birch was used for judicial and school punishments (and in the days that school bore a marked similarity to prisons), the rods were heavier and thicker, and were applied to naked buttocks and legs until blood ran freely. Asami’s birch is much less terrible. He’s careful and knows what he’s doing. A few of the pointy little buds will break Haru’s skin, but not badly. It will sting like mad, but it won’t tear him up or scar him. With the cane’s crook over his elbow, the tawse laid across his arm like a sommolier’s linen and the heavy bucket sloshing quietly, he walks back into the living room. Both boys look up at him with wide eyes. Haru looks a little green, but he meets Asami’s eyes with his own, and Asami loves him a little in that moment. He sees when Haru takes in the sight of the cane and realizes it’s not the same one he saw.  He smiles a little and sets it down, leaning against the side of the big squashy armchair. He sits down beside Haru with his other two burdens, because he doesn’t think the boy has any idea what they are.

 

“This is a tawse,” he says, placing the thick leather strap in Haru’s hand. “It was invented by a Scottish gentleman in a town by the name of Lochgelly.”

 

“What did they want to have a horrid name like that for?” asks Aki wonderingly. Haru tries to stifle his giggle but is only marginally successful.

 

“I have no idea, I’m sure. But schoolmasters loved this creation so much, a company was founded to make more of them, when the demand grew so that saddlers had trouble keeping up with the demand and still managing to make saddles and harness, so that now the only strap REALLY called a tawse is a Lochgelly tawse.” He turns the handle to show the stamp from the company embossed into the leather. It is just over 21” long, 2” wide and a quarter of an inch thick. The leather is split into two tails from the tip to about halfway up the strap’s full length. Haru stares at it as though it may sprout fangs and tear out his throat.

 

“Long ago, schoolmasters would use a tawse like this to whip the open palms of naughty boys. Later, many people discovered its effectiveness when laid across a child’s backside instead, because it often had rather a frightful effect on tender little palms, causing swelling and bruising so bad the child could not use his fingers. It’s a great deal less brutal when used to strap your ass. It will hurt more than the belt, but not so much more than you won’t be able to bear it. The birch is there in the bucket. Birch branches are extremely slender and grow quite long. Bundling a handful of them together and soaking them in salt water to keep them pliant makes a very effective disciplinary tool. The infernal thing about them is that the twigs are all different lengths, and when swung, tend to like to sneak into some shockingly intimate places to bite you. I won’t whip you so hard with it that you bleed the way they did a few hundred years ago, but you’re going to feel  it for several days. Do you have any questions?”

Haru looks from the…the implements to Asami is something like disbelief and has to stifle an urge to nervous laughter. God, that’s the _last_ thing he wants to do right now. But it’s so surreal sitting on Asami’s couch while he calmly gives a history lesson about the items which all too soon are going to be turning his ass raw.

 

But as he turns the thick leather in his own hands, the scent of it rising to his nostrils, it begins to feel much more real. His heart stutters and begins to beat rather frantically against his ribcage, and Haru takes and releases a shaky breath.

 

Eyes still huge, he shakes his head from side to side, not trusting his own voice.

 

Asami almost loses control of his face and chuckles when he takes in the expression on Haru’s face, staring at him as though what he’d really like to ask Asami is, “Are you insane? Why are you telling me this shit?” Not that he ever would say any such thing. Asami ruffles Haru’s hair between his fingers.

 

“Perhaps it is a bit of an odd time for trivia lessons,” he says, smiling. “But I want you to understand what I do to you Haru, not just endure it. I’m sure there will be things I don’t explain to you, either because they’re self explanatory or because I believe they don’t really require explanation. Now, I want you to stand up and bend over the back of this chair.”

 

He watches while Haru does it. He’s completely exquisite to Asami right now, trembling and scared but so obedient and sweet. He bends over the back of the armchair and places his palms on the seat cushion, which allows him to keep his toes on the ground but not much else.

 

“Akihito,” continues Asami, “come sit here and take Haru’s hands.”

 

It might be the fastest Aki’s ever obeyed him in anything without making at least a token protest. He instructs Akihito not to let goof Haru’s hands. It isn’t that he doubts either Aki’s ability to hold on OR Haru’s ability to stand still if he’s told to. He simply thinks they’re both going to need the contact. He steps closer to the chair and reaches under Haru’s waist to unbutton his pants…his scandalously tight leather pants…and he works them over the boy’s hips and down to his knees. He debates which tool to use first and decides on the tawse. It will sensitize his skin for the remaining punishment to come. He picks it up and lets it slide through his fingers. He drapes it across Haru’s upraised bottom and the boy tenses.

 

“This is to remind you that from now on, you must talk to us when you let negative emotion get ahold of you. When you worry that you are intruding. You’re not to keep those kinds of fears to yourself, Haru-kun.”

 

He stands at Haru’s hip and draws back his arm. The thick, supple leather impacts his rounded bottom with a loud CRACK. A band of dark red blossoms across both cheeks. Asami follows it with 2 more hard strokes, then he steps back a little. The tawse smacks into Haru’s left buttock, and the tips of the tongues curve inward to nip cruelly at exquisitely tender flesh. Asami repeats this stroke twice more as well, then switches sides so that the right side of Haru’s ass takes the brunt and the thick leather tips bite at the tender crevice from the other side. Asami doesn’t pull the strokes. He straps his boy’s defenseless backside hard, giving him the final three blows across the backs of his thighs. His hand rests briefly on Haru’s head as he sets down the tawse.

Haru lets his body sag for a moment, taking the weight of it on his stomach where it presses against the back of the chair. His calves are strained by the position on his toes and the involuntary flexing of his muscles whenever a blow had landed. On top of the earlier spanking his ass burns quite enough to make him to make him take the lesson to heart, even though he wishes Asami hadn’t added that last bit of admonition at the end. He’s not entirely sure he’ll be able to share those kinds of fears so easily, which stirs an uneasy, guilty feeling, made worse by the gentle touch to his hair. He definitely doesn’t want to bother Asami-sama with such things, but now he’ll have to _try_.

 

If he makes it through this…

It wasn’t _so_ very bad. He hadn’t cried, only whimpered and cried out a little on the last few strokes, even though it _did_ hurt more than Asami’s belt, and he had hit _very_ hard. It had gone quickly, and Akihito was still holding onto his hands for dear life, and that makes him feel like he can get through anything.

 

Only twenty-four more. Which will be next, he wonders. The cane or…or the birch? The thought of those wicked looking switches bundled together _does_ make his stomach tighten up in apprehension, especially after Asami’s description of what they can do. But Akihito is so terrified of the cane. Haru has no idea which will hurt more.

 

The waiting is almost worse than hot licks of pain that his tender ass is so perfectly positioned to take. Except, Haru can still feel the sting in his thighs and a deeper ache in his abused bottom, and he knows it’s going to get much much worse before it’s over.

 

Oh, why is Asami so silent and still? Haru doesn’t dare look up to find out, but his fingers curl into Akihito’s and hold tighter.

 

“These are for going to an unknown fetish club without a safety plan in place, and without knowing the protocols and traditions of the place in order to protect yourself. You aren’t allowed to behave recklessly with my property, Haru-kun, or render me incapable of protecting you. It is my job, and I am good at it…if you do not cut me off at the knees before I know what is going on. This one is nearly impossible for Akihito.  Do try not to make a habit of it. I’m not at all sure my blood pressure can stand two of you. These will be harder to bear, sweet boy. Hold on tight to Aki’s hands now.”

 

The deceptively slender cane strokes down the reddened skin of Haru’s backside, then taps twice.  Asami takes a step back and concentrates on making the stroke perfect.  He steps into it, his waist pivoting, swinging more with his elbow than from the shoulder. He wants the cane stroke to fall evenly across both cheeks. If he swings from the shoulder, the cane will wrap and the tip will dig into Haru’s hip. People who care more about inflicting agony than about a painful lesson administered with elegance will just flail away with a cane. The marks will last for weeks, but for many a victim of such a beating, the hurt of it lasts much longer. 

 

The cane bites into Haru’s trembling cheeks, the stroke searing evenly and deeply, sinking into soft skin and then bouncing back. A classic “tramline” welt rises up in its wake,  two twin lines like a miniature metro track, swelling almost immediately. He remembers well the sensation of it. The SNAP Haru hears when the rod strikes flesh, the small jolt it sends through his body, the strangely bewildering seconds when he wonders why it doesn’t hurt yet…and then oh, OHH the bright, hot flare of it, burning, building…for a few moments it gets worse, the pain builds, then levels off to an aching throb. He’ll be able to feel his blood beating in every welt. It will get a little worse with every stroke. Haru’s bottom must be very sore already. Asami resolutely pushes aside the pang in his chest when he thinks of the spanking he’d given the boy in the limo. The white ridges of the cane’s welts stand out against the dark, rosy-red blush of spanked and strapped flesh. 

 

Steeling himself as Haru begins to shatter, he administers the whole dozen, hard and unrelenting, because to do otherwise would be to do this bright, beautiful young man a disservice. Haru NEEDS Asami to do what he says he’ll do, and even needs the severity, to know that Asami is serious, and because if the punishment is too lenient, his guilt will not be assuaged. So Asami gives him the severity, using all his considerable skill to ensure that each stroke hurts Haru terribly, but does not damage him.

The shock of it steals Haru’s breath away. Oh, but he understands Akihito’s fear now, and the terrible vulnerability of his position. He’s crying before the end of the dozen strokes Asami gives him. Fat tears plop on the cushion below his face, pooling and running on the dark leather.

 

He bites his bottom lip hard, trying desperately to restrain, even a little, the choking cries of pain that each agonizing stripe rips from his throat. Akihito makes some soft sound of distress, and for some reason that makes Haru cry even harder. Akihito strokes and squeezes his hands, breathing almost inaudible words of comfort, but he can hear in the strained whispers just how affected Aki is.

 

His thoughtlessness caused this. After all Akihito has done for him, and Asami too, how could he have been so…so selfish and reckless? He messed everything up right at the very beginning because of his foolishness. He should have trusted them with his feelings. Should have gone to them like Asami-sama said.

 

“I’m sorry,” Haru sobs, crying out piteously when another crack snaps across his blazing cheeks. He can’t feel the individual lines of punishment anymore. Everything seems to burn with equal torment, and his body shudders, tensing for the next one. “I’m…I’m _so_ sorry. I…I…w-won’t ever…ever again…”

  


The moment he finishes, Asami lets the cane clatter to the floor. His fingers slide into Haru’s hair at the back of his neck and make a tight fist. He yanks the boy’s head back and looks down in to tearful, shadowed eyes

 

“I’m the one who punishes you, Ito Haruki,” he snarls softly. “You don’t get to punish yourself.” His voice turns to velvet, and danger. “It’s my job, and trying to push in and do my job for me is not good for your health, little boy. I don’t need you to be sorry, Haru-kun. I need you to learn, to take your punishment because it’s just, and to understand WHY it is. You don’t get to punish yourself over it. Or I will cane you again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. Until you learn to let go, and to let me do my job.”

 

He leans down and kisses Haru savagely, devouring him mouth and his gasping sobs. He lets go, licking a tear from the boy’s cheek, and stands back up.

 

“Only twelve to go now.”

 

He picks up the wrapped handle of the birch rod, letting the salt water drip from the tips. He shakes it over one of the area rugs so it won’t make the hardwood floor slippery. It makes an ominous swishing sound. He tickles the backs of Haru’s legs and his ass with the tips.

 

“These twelve are for me, little boy, I’ll be honest. They’re for the worry I felt, and the fear of not knowing if you were safe, and then of seeing you with that butcher. You MAY NOT feel guilty now, Haruki. Hear me? You will focus on the fact that you already mean enough to me that I felt those things. Oh…and a few of these are also for turning your cell phone off. If you EVER do that again, you can expect a whipping like this every day for a week.”

“Don’t scare me anymore, Haru,” whispers Aki, and leans in to kiss the younger boy’s trembling lips.  “Hang on now. He’s nearly done. You’re so brave..,”

 

Asami swings the birch rod, a cruel upswing from below Haru’s welted, raw-looking ass. The tips grab at tender flesh and lift it. Sharp, tiny whisker-thin twigs and evil little leaf buds sneak in to nip at the crease where his ass and thighs join, to sting his legs, to sneak between his cheeks and terrifyingly close to his testicles. Asami slowly and carefully paints his bottom and legs with wide swaths of hot explosions of pain. One stroke of the birch covers nearly his entire ass, and multitudes of the tangled, flexible little switches find some tender, vulnerable part of him that has never felt a spanking of any kind before, with every single stroke. Asami lets a little of his earlier fear and rage slip out into this final set of strokes, because this birch is a feather duster compared to the ones of antiquity that shredded skin and turned flesh into hamburger. He slashes it down from above, then diagonally. Every lash has a good bit of his considerable muscle behind it, and comes from a slightly different angle.

 

He knows he is hurting his boy, considering the sounds Haru is making, but he knows his own strength and the use of the tool in his hand. The angry red of Haru’s terribly punished bottom is dotted with a few tiny, bright crimson spots where the buds have broken skin, but never enough to bead up and trickle down Haru’s legs.  There are tiny bits of birch detritus flung about the living room when he’s done, and Haru is a mess, but the shadow of the anger brought to Asami by fear and worry is completely gone.

 

The baffled, warm feeling that squeezes at his chest has returned now. Gently, he helps Haru to stand and then slides into the chair, tugging the sobbing boy into his lap. With a few murmured words he sends Aki for the first aid kit. Haru doesn’t need bandages, but he’ll experience the joy of antiseptic on his brutalized ass in a little bit.

 

“Hush now,” he whispers, tucking Haru’s head into his shoulder and carding his fingers softly through his tousled hair. “You ARE a good boy, Haru-kun. So brave. Shh. It’s all over. Done and done, sweet boy. Forgiven and forgotten. Wiped clean. That’s how this works. Shh, little one, I am proud of you.”

  


As fine as it is, the wool of Asami’s slacks isn’t much comfort against the raw, throbbing skin of Haru’s bottom, but Asami’s words make every agonizing throb worth it. He softly cries everything out into the crook of Asami’s neck, breathing in his wonderful, comforting scent, and letting all the buffeting emotions of the night eddy down into a relative calm where there’s only Asami’s heartbeat against his ear.

 

A quiet joy seems to slowly spread and fill him up from some deep spring inside him. He doesn’t feel the need to speak yet, probably couldn’t if he wanted to. Curled up in Asami’s lap, with those strong, implacable, wonderful hands stroking him, is the best place in the world to be.

 

He holds the shuddering body of his new boy and murmurs encouraging and mindless things until Haru stops crying. He can tell the moment that being in Asami’s arms…and the realization that he doesn’t have to LEAVE them…hits Haru, because the hot little face against his shoulder tilts up and soft lips press against his throat. He reaches up and cups Haru’s cheek in his hand, and Haru turns to nuzzle into his hand like a kitten, and he hesitantly kisses the hand that has so recently punished him, and the tip of his warm tongue flicks against Asami’s skin and he cannot keep back the soft growl of approval. He wonders briefly if Akihito has shared the conversation about erogenous zones with Haru, but he doesn’t think so. It’s just a happy accident. He moves his hand to tilt Haru’s face farther up with his fingertips, and he captures that dangerous little mouth in a kiss. Haru makes small urgent sounds that are too sweet to be real and Asami’s cock is now at full attention and ready to take…to claim what he’s wanted for weeks now.

 

And he can’t.

 

He looks at Aki, who is trying to hide his smile. It’s not gleeful, exactly, but it’s close. Asami points at him.

 

“If I can’t, neither can you,” he says heartlessly, and the smile vanishes.

 

“Can’t what?” asks Haru.

 

Asami sighs.

 

“It’s a rule, little boy. No sex after punishment. It too often leads down one of two roads. Subs like the makeup sex and start to misbehave to get more of it, or they start to enjoy being punished because it gets associated with sex in their brains. And so…you’ll wait until morning for me to claim you, Haru-kun. And because it means I have to wait too…I’m going to spank you again in the morning before I fuck you.”

He grins evilly at the expression on Haru’s face and thinks it ALMOST makes up for not getting to stake his claim tonight as his body is clamoring for him to do. Almost.

It’s only one of a slideshow of emotions sweeping through Haru, every one of them showing plainly on his face. He’s aghast reaction on hearing that Asami plans on spanking him again in the morning transforms into the giddy realization that Asami really is going to fuck him, to claim him as Haru has been dreaming of practically since he first met him. All too evident disappointment blooms next, and Asami is amused to see the pretty little mouth purse into something _almost_ but not quite a pout. He can practically see the wheels turn in Haru’s head as he tries to work out some sort of convincing argument that would result in Asami ignoring the rule that postpones what Haru wants so much. Finally, a deep blush suffuses the boy’s fair skin, and Asami’s eyebrow lifts.

 

This reaction he’s not sure of, and he can’t resist tilting the boy’s chin up and requesting an explanation of that intriguing blush in a tone that ensures Haru knows it’s more of a command than not.

 

Haru turns an even darker shade of pink, but he can’t look away because Asami is still holding his chin. It’s so embarrassing, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Aki leaning in with bright interest.

 

“I was just…just thinking about that story you wrote for me.” This wouldn’t be so mortifying if Asami wasn’t staring at him with that intense look that made Haru feel like he was on the verge of being consumed. His eyelashes sweep down as he breaks the contact for just a moment. He doesn’t really think he needs to say any more, or why he’s thinking of that now.

 

Asami chuckles, the one he gives when he is pleased and amused and charmed, not mocking.  It is deep and rich like thick, hot caramel, and just as sweet to Haru’s ears in its own way, evoking an almost tangible sensation. It is as though he could suck it into his mouth, roll the sweetness around on his tongue, let it trickle down inside him slowly. Or as though it is thick, soft fur rubbing against him, all over, inside and out, luxurious and decadent.

 

“Oh, you mean the part where I spank you again in the morning and then prise apart your squirming red cheeks and spit you upon my cock while you squeal?” he purrs wickedly into Haru’s ear. “Hm. It…resonates, does it not? “

 

It does. He drinks in the shine of Haru’s eyes as he watches Asami like he’s made the boy’s fairy tale come true. Asami has never been anyone’s fairy tale, and he has no idea whether he can live up to it or not, but to keep that look on Haru’s face and the slightly goofy smile on Aki’s, he will, on his life, try.

 

He makes them go to bed soon therafter. It had already been relatively late when they had rushed out to Haru’s rescue, and it’s well past 2 now. He considers putting a chastity device on Haru, but they’re all going to have enough trouble sleeping as it is, and the discomfort of a  gates of hell cock cage would inevitably result in a muzzy-headed, sleep deprived little sub in the morning who was incapable of fully experiencing what Asami wants to do to him. He knows it would ease Haru’s nerves a little to tell him that it won’t be a terribly long or hard spanking, but he doesn’t do it, because he likes the mixture of nerves and helpless need that shows on Haru’s face.

 

The poor boy doesn’t like the antiseptic spray on his punished bottom one bit. He whimpers that it burns, and squirms theatrically, and Asami tries not to laugh but he can’t help it. It’s too charming.  Aki fusses over him and blows on the sting to ease it, which is hilarious and also endearing, and his boys exchange shy smiles and he can see them thinking about the fact that they, too, will get to be together soon. Perhaps not as soon as they’d like, because if Asami does his job right (and he always does), Haru’s poor little asshole is going to be too sore to want another cock in it right away. He briefly considers how much he’d enjoy making Aki fuck him anyway, but he discards the thought as soon as it comes. Akihito will have his time with Haru be exactly as he wants it to be, sweet and gentle and tender, and Asami will not interfere with one bit of it. But he’s not going to feel bad for a moment about making them wait.

He drifts off to sleep with one of them on each side of him, and throttles down the thoughts he has of how much like two halves of his whole they feel like. The similarities of their lithe, slender bodies are more noticeable in the dark, and he cannot see the difference in the color of their hair where it brushes his chest, and they both snuffle a little just like puppies in their sleep. His chest feels a little tight, and his last thought is that the little brats are going to be the ruin of him. Drag him kicking and screaming into reform and respectability because he doesn’t want them to stop looking at him like he is their fairy tale.

It really must be sleep deprivation and the after-effects of his stressful night making him this maudlin. Perhaps he’ll go find a rival to beat into the ground later this week, to make himself feel better. He ignores the voice in his head that says, No…no, you won’t.  You’re going to be too busy making fucking dreams come true, you sap. Ah well. Perhaps next week then.


	6. Claimed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ohthankgod it's about TIME. 
> 
> There is finally sex. It is rough sex. Haru cries. Asami makes it better, but if that sort of thing bother you, be advised. He's Asami Ryuichi, not Tenderheart Bear, for fuck's sake

The urgent pressure in his bladder gradually rouses Haru from a deep sleep to a drowsy, hazy state where he slips between dozing and trying to convince himself to open his eyes. It takes several minutes before he’s able to manage the latter, and when he does, the unfamiliar room takes him by surprise. It lasts only a moment and then memories of the night before rush in, leaving Haru feeling much more awake. A light flush spreads over his body as his heart begins to beat a little faster.

 

His left side is nicely toasty, pressed up snugly against Asami’s amazingly warm body. Very carefully, he turns his head to see the man himself, his commanding presence softened in slumber. There’s no movement on the other side of him, and Haru can only see the bright shock of Akihito’s hair. It looks as if he’s burrowed into Asami’s side, and a faint snuffling snore confirms that he is still fast asleep.

 

A little jolt of happy anticipation zings through him, and Haru feels like a little boy on his birthday, waiting to rush out of bed and receive his presents. He stifles a little bubble of sheepish laughter, imagining how Asami would react if he pounced on top of them, just as he used to do with his parents. He doesn’t doubt Akihito’s enthusiastic reaction, but he isn’t about to test Asami’s.

 

Instead, reluctantly, he inches his way off the bed as carefully as possible, so as not to wake them, grimacing as the muscles of his abused backside pull at the raw and tender flesh. He can feel the ache deeper too now, probably from the cane that Asami had wielded so precisely and forcefully.

 

A quick glance around doesn’t reveal the location of his clothing, Asami must have put them away somewhere, so he pads naked to the bathroom. When he’s finished he splashes water on his face and stares the boy in front of him in the mirror.

 

His dark hair is tousled and his eyes are a little sleepy, but he looks almost luminous with happiness. Haru smiles simply because he can’t contain it, and then, with a furtive look at the closed door, he puts his back to the mirror and then cranes his neck around to take in the product of Asami’s punishment.

 

A soft gasp slips out. His fair skin is already showing the bruising—blues and purples blooming across his bottom in—to him—a breathtaking display. His upper thighs are marked too, and Haru lifts up onto the tips of his toes to take in the entire view.

 

He winces as the bruised muscles work, understanding for a certainty that he’ll be feeling it for days. His lips part a little, though he doesn’t realize when his breath picks up just ever so slightly. He reaches around and tentatively presses his fingers into one of the dark, purplish marks.

 

It hurts, of course, and Haru hisses a little, but he can’t take his eyes off of what Asami has done to him. He’s not sure if he _should_ like it so much, seeing it…feeling it—especially since they are marks of his punishment—but he does. Oh, he _really_ does.

 

His cock begins to stir more than a little, and _that_ sends him into a mild state of panic.

 

_Oh, God._ He can’t walk back in there stark naked with a raging erection. What if Asami is already awake? He imagines walking toward the bed with that hot, golden gaze on him, and his problem gets even worse.

 

On comes the cold water again, and Haru uses it liberally until he’s back under control. More or less. He takes a deep breath and creeps back into the bedroom. Maybe one day, he’ll have the nerve to pounce on them, but that certainly isn’t today.

 

He breathes an inner sigh of relief when he slips into the bed without waking them. Propped on one arm he can’t resist looking at them. Asami’s right arm is flung across Akihito’s pillow, and Akihito is cuddled up to him, the white sheet draped about their middles. Obviously in the throes of a dream, Akihito mumbles something indistinct, his eyes are moving rapidly behind his lids. Haru grins and his gaze moves to Asami.

 

Asami’s face is still and beautiful in his repose. Haru eyes drink the sight in and then travel down Asami’s body, thirsty for even more. Asami is, simply put, gorgeous. How Haru has found himself welcome in this man’s bed is beyond his current ability to comprehend, but his heart squeezes, and he looks at Asami’s sleeping face again.

 

Haru reaches out shaky fingers, unable to resist the urge to trace the elegant planes of Asami’s face, but he curls his hand just before his fingertips brush the skin and pulls away.

  


Asami has waked up with his share of morning erections just like the next guy. They happen. If he’s sharing a bed with someone when they do, he takes care of them the fun way. If he’s not, he ignores them and they go away. He hasn’t been a slave to his dick in a very long time. Waking up the closest he’s come to having blue balls in nearly  twenty years makes him feel like _taking it out on someone_ rather than taking CARE of it with someone.

The someone in question has been awake for a little while now. One corner of Asami’s mouth twitches and he murmurs, without opening his eyes.

“I haven’t become poisonous overnight. I’m reasonably safe to touch.”

He opens his eyes and sees Haru, flushed with embarrassment, in the process of pulling his hand back. Asami’s own hand flashes out and grasps the boy’s wrist. Haru makes an alarmed noise that morphs into a whimpering moan when Asami brings the captive hand to his mouth and gently bites Haru’s fingers.

“Good morning, Haru-kun,” he says softly. Haru blushes and stammers out his own greeting. Asami smiles more widely, and knows the look is somewhat predatory. “How are you feeling?”

Haru’s face flushes even darker, and he whispers that he’s very sore and that he feels WONDERFUL.

Akihito sits up on the other side of Asami and yawns hugely, his shaggy hair sticking out in all directions like a hedgehog. Asami, whose right side Aki is snuggled close against, feels something insistent jabbing him in the hip.

“Mm,” he says thoughtfully. “Someone is happy to be here this morning.”

Of course, actual inspection of the situation reveals that all 3 of them seem to have awoken with the same problem. Oh dear, whatever is to be done. He tugs Aki’s face down for a kiss that makes the boy groan softly into his mouth.

“Haru-kun,” he muses thoughtfully, noticing that something about the tone in his voice makes Haruki shiver.

“Yes, Asami-sama?” whispers Haru, sounding a little nervous.

“You and I have business…and pleasure…to attend to this morning. This is something important between you and I, sweet boy, and Aki understands that. He’s going to stay with us, but not as a participant. Though I believe him when he says he doesn’t mind, it hardly seems fair that he should be in his current…predicament…and now be faced with watching me with you and not being able to get any relief.”

“It’s okay,” Aki starts to protest. Asami silences him with a quelling glance.

“What do you think, Haru-kun? Does it seem fair?”

“Not at all fair, Asami-sama,” says Haru breathlessly.

“I’m glad you agree. What would you say if I told you I wanted you to use your mouth on him before you get what’s coming to you?”

“Ohh…” Haru’s eyes light up and despite the pink that colors his cheeks he gives Asami a cheeky little grin. “I’d say, ‘oh, yes, Asami-sama, please can I now?’”

 

Asami laughs, and Akihito has turned a little red too, but he looks as eager as Haru feels.

 

“Go on, then,” Asami says indulgently, sending Haru off with a not so gentle pat to his behind that makes him gasp and reminds him that Asami intends to spank him again very soon.

 

Somehow, that intimidating thought doesn’t seem to discourage his half-hard cock. In fact, it grows even harder as he crawls over Asami’s legs to get to Akihito. They grin self-consciously at each other, and then Haru leans in and kisses Akihito good morning.  Only the kiss turns into _kissing_ that’s all sorts of hot and hungry and sloppy, and they’re both making soft little moans into each other mouths and…

 

Asami clears his throat.

 

Haru pulls back from Akihito, breathing a little harder than before. Akihito looks flushed and horny, oh but he wants to make this good for him. He has to bite his tongue to keep from babbling some disclaimer about how he’s never done it before, so he hopes he isn’t lousy.

 

_God, what if he is?_

 

_Okay, how hard can it be?_ he thinks as he wriggles into position, not even waiting for Akihito to lie down. Not that he’s ever experienced it on the other side either, but…sucking…licking…a little help from his hand. _Simple, right?_

 

Right as he’s panicking a little, he thinks of Asami and what he would say if he knew Haru’s thoughts . He hears Asami-sama’s voice in his head, cast in that amused yet stern tone he utilizes so well, advising him that if he’s so intent on having something to worry about, he’ll be glad to provide something _much_ more tangible. For some weird reason, it makes him relax and—fuck—Akihito’s cock is right _there_. _Oh,_ Akihito is so hard, his cock flushed a deep red, and just a tiny bit of moisture shines from the small slit at the top.

 

Haru’s balls ache in sympathy, and suddenly, he’s not intimidated at all, not _much_ anyway. His tongue darts out and licks the bead of moisture away. Akihito’s cock jerks, and a secret smile spreads over Haru’s face.

 

His hips wriggle his body into better position, leaving his bruised little bottom tilted high. He wraps one hand around the base of Akihito’s shaft and slowly sinks his mouth over the rest of it. Akihito’s gasp encourages him, and Haru rather eagerly, if not proficiently, begins to pay Akihito’s cock all the attention that he can muster.

He can’t resist touching and tasting and probing with this tongue, especially when he seems to find a spot—like the tiny triangle of softest skin right underneath the ridge of the head—that makes Akihito get a lot louder with the noises he’s making. His swollen lips suck and stroke, making wet, sloppy sounds on Akihito’s dick. It’s kind of obscene, but also amazingly hot, and Haru has to lift his hips even higher because he’s in danger of spilling his own cock right onto the sheets brushing it against it so tantalizingly.

 

Akihito’s hand slides into his hair, tugging a little, and, oh, God, that’s hot too. Haru moans around a mouthful of Akihito’s dick and the hand tightens, making his eyes sting a little.

Asami watches Haru happily go about his work and can’t believe it’s even possible to be that adorable giving someone a blowjob. It’s the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen. He’d bet his last yen the boy has never done it before from the way he studies Akihito’s erection so intently before licking the tip with his small pink tongue, a frown of concentration between his dark eyebrows. It doesn’t take him long to get the hang of it, and soon Akihito is grabbing Haru by the hair and letting out desperate little groans and whimpers. He realizes he doesn’t actually have a lot of time, so he tears his eyes away from the fascinating sight and reaches over to the bedside table. The ruby colored, jewel-bright glass jar is ever present. He picks it up and unscrews the lid, dipping one finger into the silky cream. The faint scents of vanilla and cinnamon and ginger drift from the jar and the substance on his finger. He traces his other hand gently up the back of Haru’s thigh to his invitingly upraised bottom, so raw and bruised and irresistibly presented. He just flat fucking loves the raw little whine that comes from deep in Haru’s throat when his fingers stroke his sore flesh, Asami uses the finger and thumb of the same hand to carefully spread the punished little cheeks. He watches Haru’s sweet little pink anus wink at him, and then wrings a howl out of his boy’s throat (he does not let go of Akihito’s cock) when he leans down and touches the tip of his tongue to the tiny furled opening. He ignores Haru’s whimpers and cries as he leisurely tongues his asshole, knowing that it tickles and yet also feels so good the boy can barely process the sensations. When the cute little pucker is soft and wet, he withdraws his tongue and swirls his slippery fingertip all around the  whorl of Haru’s hole. Akihito’s moans grow more frantic as the noises Haru makes vibrate the shaft of his cock, and can’t help rolling his hips up to meet the eager, wet mouth. He gags a little when Aki’s upthrust and his own head bobbing down meet at once and drive the photographer’s rock-hard erection just a little farther down his throat than is comfortable.

That’s when Asami slides his finger all the way to the knuckle into Haru’s asshole. The tantalizing little body goes rigid with shock and Haru yelps around his mouthful, which makes Aki howl in turn. Grinning, Asami slowly and carefully presses his finger in and out of the tightly clenched hole, searching. Haru starts to have trouble focusing,  so Asami stops and slaps his upthrust bottom sharply. The sound he makes then goes straight to Asami’s cock.

“Don’t you dare stop sucking, naughty boy,” says Asami quietly, “or your spanking is going to hurt a lot more than it’s already going to. Ohh, look at how that makes you whimper and squirm. Do you know why I’m doing this right now, Haru-kun? I’m going to give you your spanking as soon as you make Akihito come. It’s going to sting and sting your sore little ass. And once you’re crying enough to satisfy me…”

He twists his finger gently, and ah, there it is. The little bump under the velvety soft flesh along the front wall of his boy’s rectum.  He gently presses his fingertip against Haru’s sweet spot as he continues to talk quietly.

“Oh Haru, as soon as that happens, when your sweet little sobs are too perfect for me to resist, I’m not going to want to take time to make you ready for me. I’m just going to fuck you. Ah, there we are. Right there. Is that good, little boy?” He slowly and teasingly rubs his fingertip back and forth over that secret place inside Haru’s body where he has never been touched before, pressing and stroking . Haru’s increasingly desperate moans are like music to his ears. Then, without warning, he presses down firmly, grinding the pad of his finger against the source of Haru’s pleasure. Haruki screams around Akihito’s cock, and Asami is impressed in spite of himself that the boy doesn’t let go of Aki’s erection, not even when Asami forces an shattering orgasm from his overwrought little body.

“Shh, there’s my good boy. It’s all right, Haru-kun. It just felt so GOOD, didn’t it?” And Asami doesn’t stop stroking gently over the boy’s sweet spot, even when Haru’s sounds turn pained. “Look at you, my naughty little boy. You’re getting hard again. You’re going to be such a good little slut for me, Haruki. So eager for my touch, so responsive.  So DIRTY.” He briefly withdraws his finger from the almost unbearably tight confines of Haru’s gripping, clutching asshole, scooping up more of the lubricant and then slowly but mercilessly pressing two fingers inside his shuddering body while he moans loudly and sucks hungrily on Akihito’s cock.

“Oh,” cries Aki, “ohh Haru! S…so good. It’s perfect. So…hah…so perfe….Asami, please, I’m gonna come. I’m…” His fingers tighten in Haru’s hair and his hips roll entreatingly. “If you don’t want to…NGH! Sw…ohfuck…Haru! Can’t wait, I’m suh…sorry…AHH!” And he comes, crying out Haru’s name and shuddering as though in the throes of some powerful ague.

A choked moan reverberates around Akihito’s cock as he thrusts up the last time into Haru’s mouth. It bumps into the soft back of his throat again, but the fingers in Haru’s ass are working him on the other end, and he can hardly do anything but receive what he’s being given. He swallows instinctively when Akihito’s come hits his tongue.

 

That blind instinct takes over, or maybe it’s just mindless physical reaction to overwhelming stimuli. Haru isn’t capable of much in the way of higher reasoning at the moment. His body is still trembling from the orgasm Asami just forced from him so very quickly and easily. And those filthy words Asami murmurs makes Haru’s belly burn with a twisted kind of pleasure and mortification that just proves what Asami is saying.

 

His balls throb and ache, and he whimpers around Akihito’s softening cock, unable to keep his slim hips still while Asami’s fingers twist and open him.  It’s almost too much because he feels on the verge of coming undone again, and it’s brilliant and overpowering. He’s enamored—stunned by the absolute heated charge of both of them touching him, being inside him at the same time.

 

Akihito finally pushes him off his sensitized cock with a little whimper of his own, and Haru’s insides clench with anticipation and just a little bit of apprehension for what’s coming. He drops his forehead against Akihito’s thigh and shivers, though his skin is warm and flushed.

 

“Asami-sama…”

 

Asami grabs two thick bolsters from the head of the bed and stacks them instead in the center.

 

“You’ll bend yourself over those, little boy, and open your legs as wide as you can. Arch your back and perch that cute little ass up high for me,” he growls softly.

 

Not waiting to see if he’s obeyed, he rolls to his feet and snags the toy he wants out of the dresser. It is the leather paddle with the word “Brat” embossed into it that he’d been unable to resist, and had used on Aki and Feilong in the very beginning.  It’s flexible and not very heavy, and was never meant for real discipline. It’s exactly what he wants right now. Turning back, he sees that he indeed HAS been obeyed, and that Haru is spread out for him on top of the bed like a feast, his head pillowed on his crossed arms and his face turned towards Asami, his dark blue eyes soaking up every move the older man makes, and shining at him like Asami is the sun the boy reflects at him. His lips, a bit swollen from his ministrations of Aki’s cock, are parted as he breathes fast and lightly through his mouth like a frightened deer.  The long clean line of his spine curves from the back of his neck to the cleft of his ass in an elegant arch. His naked bottom is round and quivering, painted with the evidence of last night’s punishment. Asami takes a minute to appreciate his work.  The nature of the tawse is that the rounded tips of the tongues are heavier than the middle length of the strap, and as such, bite into flesh when they impact tender skin at the end of their trajectory. It is only the tips that leave marks visible the next day, unless the wielder is needlessly cruel. There  are six on the outer curve of each cheek, two little half-moon shaped bruises for each stroke. Then, in a mirror image, there are six more lined up neatly down the crack of Haru’s ass, just barely nipping inside. Asami COULD have stood at Haru’s head, and brought the tawse down vertically, right down the center of that crease.  But the very fact of the punishment itself was enough to fill Haru with grief, and such cruelty would render anyone (except perhaps Feilong and if it’s true, Asami doesn’t want to hear about it!) unable to participate in penetrative intercourse for several days, at least not without great pain. And Asami is NOT interested in waiting anymore! He continues his perusal of his new property. Twelve perfectly spaced, precise, swollen weals mar Haru’s soft skin. Even all these hours later, the tramlines are visible, as is the fact that not a single one of them missed its mark, or crossed one of the other strokes. The edges of the cane marks are dark with bruising. Then, on top of all of it, Asami has given Haru what, today, looks like a bad case of razor burn all over his ass and the backs of his thighs with the birch rod. Thighs which, as instructed, he has spread as widely as he can space them, so that Asami can see as plain as day that, although Haru trembles with actual fear this time, and this time his soft whimpers  are evidence of anxiety rather than excitement, his cock is erect and looks almost painful. He smirks and his hand reaches between Haru’s  legs to where his hips are elevated by the bolsters and he softly plays with the boy’s arousal for a bit while Haru makes priceless, frantic noises. Well, it won’t do for him come right now, for a second time, so he lets go before Haru reaches the critical point.

 

He lays the leather paddle against the obediently upraised backside. Haru tenses and seems to hold his breath.

 

“Haru,” he says softly, and knows his voice is a little ragged around the edges with his own desire for this boy, “I’ve waited for this day…to be honest, from the moment you got up in my face with your adorable little tough guy attitude challenging me to make you cry because you didn’t think I could do it. And I’m petty enough to want to see tears in your eyes while I make you suffer just a bit now, since I suffered last night from not being able to take you as I wished. You’re not permitted to feel guilty though, little boy. I’d have spanked you before I took what was mine regardless, because I wish to. Because you’re mine, and I can. Sometimes it will be for no other reason than that.”

 

“Y-yes, Asami-sama,” whispers Haru breathlessly.

 

Asami lifts the paddle and brings it down with a snap of his wrist. He doesn’t lift it very high or bring it down very hard, but poor Haru’s bottom is raw and sore from his punishment. He gasps and writhes and cries out softly, but only for a moment, and then he is back in position.

 

“I’m not a nice man, Haru-kun,” hisses Asami with another spank. “Sometimes I will make you cry just  because I feel like it. Sometimes it will seem like more than you can bear.”  Three more strokes. They’re not brutal, but they must hurt anyway. “You need to know this, pretty boy. There won’t always be a reason.  When I fuck you in  a few minutes, it’s going to hurt. I won’t always be gentle. In fact, I will rarely be gentle. Your suffering is beautiful to me, and I’ll give it to you because I like to. If it’s too much, little one, I want you to know that now, before it goes any further than this morning. Just a little more now, Haru-kun. Will you cry for me? Because it hurts but also because I want you to? I’ll always respect your safeword, Haru…but nothing else. Do you understand?” The paddle stroke that accompanies this question is harder, and Haru wails. “You can scream, or cry, or beg for mercy…and I’ll love it. But I won’t stop. Only 5 more, little boy, because I’m so hard for you right now I feel that I’ll burst if I don’t have you soon.  Does it hurt, Haru? I can tell that it does. It’s nothing to how it’s going to feel when I pry your little asshole open with my cock. Ohh, you’ll scream. When I claim you Haru. Because you. Belong. To. Me.”

 

The promised final 5 strokes accompany his words, and are indeed painful, if the boy’s reaction is any indication, but Asami’s careful in placing them. He feels ready to burst, because he has held back with Haru since the very beginning, from what he really wants to do, and now he doesn’t need to anymore. He just needs Haru to understand what he’s getting in to. 

  


Oh, it hurts. It does, and Haru gives Asami all the tears he asked for because even if he would offer them up gladly, he’s helpless to do anything but sob beneath the blows that feel so very cruel against his already well-punished bottom.

 

And these words that Asami weaves around him whip Haru’s fraught emotions to an even higher level, a fever pitch of yearning…and fear too. For Asami’s promises to show no mercy…of the pain he’ll give at his pleasure would fail to strike fear in the heart of only a most foolish person.

 

But it’s everything Haru’s longed for, and he sobs for the want--the desperate need--of it. He lifts his tear-streaked face from his crossed arms and cries out as the last few blows connect with startling cracks that rock his slender body forward.

 

“ _Oh_ …Asami-sama…please…please…I…I want…” Haru stutters on the words because there aren’t any that will properly express the overwhelming tide of emotions rising inside him.

 

Grinning savagely, Asami drops the paddle and pulls his throbbing erection out of his boxer briefs. It is only because Aki presses it urgently into his hand that he remembers the jar of lubricant, and slicks it roughly over his cock. Holding himself up on one hand, he guides his cock between Haru’s cheeks to snug up against his quivering little hole.

 

“You want what?” he asks softly. “Haru….ohh Haru…right now I’d give you anything you asked for. Anything. Except mercy.”

 

And he thrusts the head of his cock past the clutching ring of muscle inside Haru’s little pink hole. Gritting his teeth, because he never truly expected the boy to feel this TIGHT, he sucks air through his teeth and orders his clamoring brain to shut the fuck up because it wants him to rut into the exquisitely tight heat as hard as he can, and cares not at all whether the boy bleeds from it. The part of Asami that clenches at Haru’s soft cry of, “Oh Asami-sama please…I want… I want…,” cannot allow him to damage the treasure before him. He rocks his hips a little, while Haru whimpers, and waits for the faintest relaxation of the vice around his cock. When it comes, he snarls and SHOVES.  He’s waited long enough…but only just. Haru’s flesh doesn’t tear, but it’s clenched so tight around Asami’s thick, heavy cock that he wonders briefly about his own circulation. Only briefly though, because the trembling in the snug little body underneath him, and the sounds coming from Haru’s mouth are priceless.

 

“Mine,” he whispers into Haru’s ear, his voice no more than a sigh. “And you better brace yourself, because I’m going to fuck you now.”

Oh, but it’s impossible. Haru goes pale with the shock of it. His face drains of blood, leaving his skin cold and his breath stolen. Frozen in place, his back arched, he desperately tries to will his anguished body to open. The white hot burn that seems to blaze up the inside of his tight little hole, seemingly hot enough to sear Asami’s cock; it’s shattering.

 

Only the potent power of that one whispered word anchors Haru. Distraught, he sobs out, “It…it’s too big…ahhh…oh, Asami-sama…I don’t think…it…it won’t fit…”

  
Asami chuckles, and he LOVES the way Haru shivers at the sound.   
  
"Oh Haru-kun, don't worry. Of course it will fit. I'll just have to push harder." He punctuates the word 'push' with a hard shove of his hips that seats his cock fully inside his boy, his belly pressed against Haru's sore, punished bottom. Haru wails in pain as Asami's cock is slowly dragged out of his reluctantly yielding asshole, and struggles and sobs when he jabs it back in. He angles his hips, and rolls them against Haru's obediently propped bottom, grinning evilly at how beautifully the young man obeys, despite his obvious discomfort. Haru chokes on his next agonized howl when Asami's well-placed thrust rubs the same spot his clever fingers had been manipulating minutes ago.  
  
Perhaps it makes him a monster, but Haru's sobs interspersed with ragged cries and moans of helpless pleasure are fucking MUSIC to his ears. The boy writhes and struggles, and his almost unbearably tight little asshole clenches and flutters around Asami's brutally invading prick. He concentrates on hitting that one sweet little spot with every stroke. When Haru whimpers wetly that it hurts him so MUCH, Asami closes his eyes against the hard twist of pure, nearly helpless, lust.  
  
"Shh," he whispers, leaning down so that his lips brush the delicate shell of Haruki's ear. "It will stop hurting when I stop fucking."  
  
The noise Haru makes at this is a nearly animal sound of pure want, even though he still cries. The exquisite tightness eats at his self control. He hauls Haru up onto his knees, holding him in place with one hand while reaching around to encircle the boy's weeping cock with the other, his fist gripping and sliding up and down its engorged length.  
  
"Do you want me to stop, Haru-kun?" he murmurs into the boy's ear. "Take my cock out of your poor, sore little ass? Stop making you whimper and cry? Ohh Haru, you feel so good inside. Like you were made just for this, just for my cock filling you up so much you can't stand it? I won't offer again, little boy."

“ _No!_ ” Haru gasps, utterly dismayed. Even though he already feels split impossibly wide by the thick cock thrust up into his ass at this angle that provides no escape, he begins to writhe with frantic effort.  His thighs tremble as he tries to impale himself deeper onto the hard shaft that fills him so fully. “No… _please_ , Asami-sama…don’t… _don’t_ take it out.” 

A keening wail slips from his lips, and the spike of pain from his impulsive movements sends his vision tunneling. If not for the iron bar of Asami’s arm around his middle, Haru would collapse face first on the bed. But he forces pained, shuddering breaths through his slack mouth and throws his head back against Asami’s shoulder. Tears spill down his cheeks, but his wide spread thighs sink lower until his raw little cheeks are flush against Asami’s groin.

“Please don’t…I…I can take it...” he sobs, desperate with an irrational fear that all of this is going to disappear before his eyes.  “I can… _oh please_...”

  
Asami rocks his hips gently, pressing against and then easing off of the one place inside Haru that doesn't hurt. The monstrous, clawing need inside him is replaced by a powerful desire to replace Haru's pain with honest pleasure. He's given them both what he promised. He's claimed what's his by right, by force, and it has hurt the boy mightily, and yet still he begs Asami to continue. The tearstained face looking back at him beseechingly, the sweet body squirming not to get away but to get closer, and the wrenching sorrow in Haruki's voice soothe the beast inside him like nothing else likely could have.   
  
"Hush now," he whispers as Haru's crying takes on a frantic tone while he swears he can take it. This sends a cold shard of guilt stabbing into the heart Asami could have sworn a mere 2 years ago he didn't have anymore. Would he really have this boy look back on today as something here merely took? Merely survived? In believing Haru not to be a virgin, he's apparently assumed a level of experience that simply isn't true. Haru's small body struggles to accept Asami's girth. "Haru. Shh. I won't stop. Little one, I can't make it not hurt you now. You're so tight, and I'm not small. Think about the pain I've given you that's made you want more. Think about it, Haru, and feel me." He rolls his hips slowly, withdrawing only a little and rocking back inside, carefully and skillfully stimulating Haru's prostate. The boy's tight little hole is stretched painfully thin around his cock, and when he looks there, he wishes he hadn't. So hot, the sight of the reddened rim of his tiny asshole, stretched almost beyond bearing. How it must ache and sting and burn him. Asami closes his eyes and concentrates on the incredible, melting softness inside the boy's body, on the way the sensitive head of Asami's cock creates a delicious friction in just exactly the best place.

 

Asami’s tremendous presence envelops Haru, gradually soothing his anxious agitation. His thoughts seize on Asami’s whispered assurance, and  he does as he’s bid, letting himself feel the slow burn and glide of Asami’s cock, the hand around his own coaxing him to open, to melt into the breath-stealing sensations and the promise of bliss. The consuming ache and burn hazes out into a softer torment that makes Haru moan helplessly when Asami drags the pleasure from his overwrought body.

 

He has no defenses against the man holding him…claiming him with every touch and every word he utters. He doesn’t want any. He leans against the strong body at his back with blind trust, clutching onto the arm that wraps around his waist and the hand spread wide across his rib cage.

 

“Oh…oh, Asami-sama…” His back arches like a slender bow, the better to take Asami’s steady thrusts. Urgent need takes over as the rising pleasure coils in his belly, makes his balls ache, and his cock throb within the Asami’s warm, skillful fingers. “Unh…I…I’m…” He’s going to come all over Asami’s hand and the sheets below them, but before he can finish his thought, Asami shoves up into him again as if in some primal instinct and Haru wails. The pain and pleasure join in a hot flash behind his eyes and between his legs, and Haru begins to come apart.

  
Oh. _Ohh_ they’re so beautiful it takes his breath away. Asami is like some primal god of legend, raw and real and primal in his savagery. His tiger eyes burn fiercely, so intensely that Aki feels he’ll melt if Asami turns their heat on him. His body is like something sculpted by a demented genius, flawlessly carved out of marble and sin. The muscles in his arms and belly flex and slide as he draws himself slowly and carefully out of Haru’s body and then _rams_ back into him, over and over again. Aki’s body aches in sympathy for what Haru’s going through, knowing how it burns when Asami gives no quarter. Oh, he loves it NOW, but in the earlier weeks and months, it was so hard to take. He feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and although Haru can’t…and won’t…beg Asami for mercy, Aki wants to beg FOR him. That’s when it changes and the ruthless TAKING becomes something shared, and though Haru still cries, Aki can see his body softening, melting into Asami’s touch and his possession of Haru’s body. The way those lovely eyes go blind with all-consuming need, the way the broken sobbing turns slowly into a soft, surrendering sort of crying that is all tangled up in bone-melting pleasure. Oh, Aki knows. He know exactly how it feels when Asami turns his brutality into tenderness, and how there is no defense against it, as if anyone would want to defend against feelings so intense and terrifying and amazing.

 

There it is, he thinks, when Haru's pained sobs slowly merge into perfect surrender and perfect pleasure. He feels it, the exact moment when Haru truly becomes his, when his hips arch back into Asami's easy, rocking thrusts, his head thrown back on Asami's shoulder. He feels the tiny ripples signaling Haru's approaching orgasm deep inside the boy's body during that moment, and his teeth flash in a feral, triumphant smile. He powers his cock up into Haru's shuddering body as hard as he can, filling him completely, wringing a cry from his throat that cannot choose between pain and pleasure, and that's exactly what Asami wants him to feel. He feels the tingling in his spine and in his balls as they draw tight against his body.

 

"You're mine, Ito Haruki," he growls softly into Haru's ear, holding him close and ramming himself into the boy's body, applying merciless friction that seems to cause him to fly apart around Asami. "Mine, and I'm keeping you. Come for me, Haru. My good boy. Come NOW."

 

And he'd better, because Asami presses his face against the slender column of the side of Haru's neck and sinks his teeth into flesh, biting hard and steadily, almost but not quite tasting blood on his tongue, snarling as the clench of Haru's tormented little hole grips him hard and pulls pleasure from his body, stamping Haru into Asami's blood and bones and soul.

  


“Nghh…” Haru groans as Asami’s teeth sink in so deep, and his words sink in even deeper. The pain--the bruised circle of marks that it surely brings--feels like a badge of ownership. It fills up a hole inside him, the intense craving to belong entirely to this man, to submit, to give over everything, and it undoes him completely.

 

 _Yours…yours_ , his thoughts sing as his body shudders, fervently responsive to Asami’s command and to the driving thrusts that bring his pleasure to an impossible crest and then drag him over the edge. A raw, drawn out cry rips from his throat, and he spills his seed with Asami’s warm breath at his ear, claiming him, praising him.

 

Haru sobs out Asami’s name, blinking away hot tears and blindly turning his face to adoringly press his lips again and again to whatever skin he can reach.

 

They stay there, frozen like some kind of agonizingly erotic statue carved all of one piece. Haru is boneless and trembling in his arms, crying softly and thanking him and whispering what Asami thinks is "yours, yours, yours," over and over again. It takes a little while for him to remember how to move himself, but after several minutes during which times matters not at all to him, they finally manage to untangle. Asami lays Haru down between them, and he and Akihito hold him between them. Aki fusses over him some more, gently touching him and telling him how beautiful he is. Asami brushes sweaty black bangs out of his boy's eyes and smiles down at him, a tiny quirk of a smile teasing the corners of his lips. When Haru burrows closer and makes sleepy little contented sounds, Asami is suddenly reminded very much of a little wild fox, and its words.

"...if you tame me, then we shall need each other."  
and  
"People have forgotten this truth. But you mustn't forget it. You become responsible forever for what you've tamed."

He's not sure, when he looks at the cozily snuggling bodies of the two beautiful young men in his bed, exactly who has tamed whom, but he can't bring himself to care  


 

 


	7. Going all the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru recovers from his claiming. Akihito doesn't have to wait anymore.
> 
> God, this is the fluffiest thing I've ever written.
> 
> Seriously, you're going to need an insulin shot.
> 
> Oh God...oh...the FEELS!!! Run away!
> 
> Ok no really. The first sex between Haru and Akihito can't possibly be anything except unbearably sweet and cute and perfect for the two of them

He receives the text message in the middle of a shoot to accompany the reporter’s interview with Councilman Yamamoto. It is short and to the point.

[I’m not sore anymore]

He’s gladder than he’s ever been from then until the end of the interview that both the Councilman and interviewer are used to ignoring the presence of photographers, because his erection is almost instantaneous and insistent. It is with great relief that he packs up his gear and loads it into the reinforced boxes he’s fastened to his Vespa. Instead of responding to the text, he sends one to Asami.

[Are you busy?]

Fortunately, the answer is no, and Sion is on the way home, so he makes a stop. The days of pitching a fit to demand entrance, or posing as a guest, are long gone. Suoh shows him to Asami’s office personally. He doesn’t even glare. Asami is on the phone, but smiles briefly and holds up one finger. He actually doesn’t make Aki wait more than a minute, and that’s kind of flattering.

“Good afternoon, Akihito,” says Asami smoothly. “What do you want?”

“Hey,” says Aki hotly, “why do you think I want something?”

“You never come here in the middle of the day unless you do,” says Asami practically, which makes Aki feel sort of shitty, and resolve to drop by someday just to say hello. And maybe blow him under his desk.

“That makes me sound like kind of an asshole,” he mutters uncomfortably.

“Not really,” says Asami, smiling a little and coming out from behind his desk. “It means you only interrupt my busy day when it’s important to you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Oh…okay,” says Aki, willing to be appeased. “Well I do need something. But just…advice.”

“Interesting. What kind of advice?”

Aki shows him the text from Haru, blushing. Asami’s small smile turns into a lascivious grin.

“Don’t,” begs Akihito, embarrassed. “Don’t joke, not this time. P-please?” It costs him a little in the pride department, but he begs anyway. The salacious grin vanishes, replaced by something a little softer.

“This is important to you.”

“Yeah. Wasn’t it…wasn’t it important to you? I know it’s not the same thing, I DO. I’m not…staking my claim…or anything…but…”

“But you want it to be special.”

“Yeah. And I don’t want to screw it up.”

“Akihito,” says Asami softly, cupping Aki’s cheek in his strong hand, “As much as it pains me to say it, I’m not sure I’m the right one to advise you on this. You want to make love to him, and what do I know of that?”

Asami almost sounds sad, and Aki looks at him with wide, surprised eyes.

“But…you do,” he blurts, knowing he’s revealing so much, but unable to resist that tiny note of regret he hears. “Maybe it’s not gentle or whatever…but….but you always know what I need, Asami. Don’t you know….Haru and I….we wouldn’t BE here…I mean with you…if gentleness or…or tenderness…was what we wanted! And when I need it to be…slower or softer, you know that too. It’s just that I don’t need it that way very often! It isn’t….you know I’m shit at explaining this kinda stuff…it’s not that I want to be all sappy and stuff with him. I just don’t want to confuse him…and the first time with me….I want it to be really different from the first time with YOU….because I don’t want him to be confused. I don’t want him to think I want him to ….obey me. Belong to me.”

“He does, though,” says Asami.

“I know what he said, that he wanted to belong to both of us. I even get that. But it IS different.”

“Of course it is. And you don’t have to keep trying to explain. I understand,” says Asami. “And I think it’s a good idea. The time may…and probably will…come that you and Haru want it to be rough and dirty between you, but it won’t be about power, or submission, it will be because you both feel feisty and that’s fine. And what you want now, it is fine too, and a very lovely sentiment. Aki…I don’t know very well how to tell you what you should do. You love Haru, and he loves you, and I honestly don’t think you CAN do it wrong, as long as that is there between you. Take your time, and show him with your body how much you care for him, and it will be fine, even if you don’t DO everything with textbook finesse. You won’t need to. Tonight, then?”

“I…yes. Yes, if it’s all right with you?”

“Of course it’s all right. I’ve got to work late, so you’ll have the penthouse to yourselves.”

“Oh.” Aki sits back, nonplussed. “I thought you’d…I mean I was there when…”

“Entirely different. Your presence then made Haru less frightened. My presence tonight would only make both of you more nervous.”

“I…well thanks…I guess. I just thought…well if we’re going to do this thing with all three of us…shouldn’t we not…leave anybody out?”

Asami strolls to the bar along the wall behind his desk and pours himself 2 fingers of scotch. He smirks over the rim of the glass at Akihito.

“That’s part of it, yes. And assuming you don’t leave him….nonfunctioning…then tomorrow night stands to be quite interesting indeed.”

Aki feels a flush of heat in his belly and his cheeks go pink at the thought of that. Asami sees it, because he sees everything, and his smile turns a little smug. Aki glares at him. For form’s sake mostly, but it wouldn’t do to let the man grow complacent.

“Of course I’m not going to leave him….ugh, you’re an asshole.”

“Yes, we’ve established this on multiple occasions. Why it continues to surprise you, I’m sure I don’t know.”

“But…Asami…I thought you’d WANT to…”

Asami winks at him and the smirk widens to the smile that always does things to Akihito’s insides, the one that is knowing and dirty and promises filthy things.

“I’d want to watch? What makes you think I won’t be doing just that? I simply won’t be physically present because I think it would be detrimental to both of your abilities to relax.”

Ohh. Of course, the penthouse’s security has cameras that can film anything happening in any room of the place at any time. Asami doesn’t keep the cameras running, although they’re programmed to come on if any of the condo’s entry points register an unauthorized entry.

“The security cameras,” he murmurs.

“Yes. Akihito…if you’d rather I not, I’ll give you my word that I…”

“No! No, I mean its okay.” He flushes and looks at his hands, picking at a hangnail, because it’s one thing for Asami to know but is another for him to say out loud how he gets off on the idea. Asami, however, has apparently reached his daily limit on making things easier for Aki. He folds his arms and raises an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“Ugh! Why do you have to be like this?”

“Like what? I’m simply listening attentively to my lover’s desires so that I can give him what he wants.”

“No you’re not. I mean, you ARE, but you’re making me squirm to get it.”

“Yes, isn’t it lovely how things work out?”

“Gah. Fine. I don’t know how Haru will feel about it, but you know damn well I l-like the idea of you watching us. You’re right…if you were in the room, I’d start wondering if I was doing stuff right, because you…you’re so GOOD at all of it, and I don’t even really know what I’m doing and what if Haru could only look at you and compare and..and…”

Asami sets down his scotch and strides across the room, seizing Akihito in his arms and kissing him roughly. By the time he stops, Aki’s brain is a little fuzzy and his knees aren’t very sure they can hold him up.

“Haru won’t do that,” says Asami seriously. “And you know it. He’s got an extraordinary capacity for caring, and he sees us both as individuals, not as just a package deal. If there’s comparing happening, it’s coming from you. So don’t do that, Aki, not to yourself or to me or Haru. Don’t worry so much about doing everything right tonight. Just let it happen. I’ll join you…ah…afterwards. All right?”

“I’ll try,” mutters Aki, hoping he can pull it off, but he’s awfully good at worrying stuff to death. He texts Haru as he gets back on his scooter.

[What time r your classes over?]

Haru must not be busy, as he answers nearly immediately.

[Oh I thought you might not’ve gotten my text]

[Oh yeah. I had to do something first. Sorry. So class?]

[Last one’s over at 4]

[See you at 6? I’ll fix dinner]

[Okay, see you soon!]

[Haru,] he adds, laughing at himself a little for being cheesy, [I can’t wait]

There’s a longish pause before Haru answers, and he starts to worry that maybe he’s being too weird.

[me too]

***

Haru pockets his phone and sits through the rest of his class in a kind of happy daydream.  Fortunately, he’s able to get the notes from the girl sitting next to him when they’re dismissed, and he wanders out into the quad for some fresh air during the break he has before his last class.

A group of girls walk by giggling, and Haru can't help but grin. He’s ridiculously happy, and the sight of other people enjoying themselves too just sends his mood even higher.

He has a boyfriend. Takaba Akihito is his boyfriend, and they’re finally going to get to go all the way.  He can’t stop turning it over in his mind. Akihito really wants _him_. Haru has to stifle a little giggle himself.

It’s so unlike what he had with Issa, his boyfriend of all of six months he’d met his fourth year at Uni. He’d felt so inadequate then, even undesirable. He realizes on some level that it had more to do with Issa and his own issues with being gay than with him, but still, he couldn’t help worrying a bit that there was something about him that was wanting. It was always he who had been the one to reach out to touch, for affection, any kind of physical contact. He’d become used to the rejection and the fact that Issa wasn’t comfortable—despite being slightly older—with anything more than kissing and furtive hand jobs in the dark. Being dumped was depressing, but almost a relief.

It wasn’t as if he had _no_ experience. The crush he’d had on a Graduate Assistant in his freshman year had culminated in a week of terribly exciting make out sessions in the classroom—the risk of being caught had only made it better—and then a single, uncomfortable, mildly painful, and extremely quick encounter in his dorm room where he’d lost his virginity and his crush in the space of a few minutes. He hadn’t even had time to zip his pants back up before he was left alone in the room.

Akihito would never be like that, Haru was sure, not even if it was with someone he considered a one night stand.  Akihito was too good and too kind and too everything to just use someone. Haru smiled softly as his thoughts turned to his bright, lively friend. _His lover._

Those words make his heart thump, and all of Haru’s old insecurities well back up. What if he _is_ lacking? What if once Akihito is around him more he figures out Haru isn’t worth his time? What if he really does suck in bed, and that’s why no one seems to want to stay around once they’ve been intimate with him? What if it _is_ him--his lousy luck at relationships--and he’s just not that desirable?

 _Asami-sami thinks you are,_ Haru thinks to himself defiantly, trying to stifle the twinge in his heart. **_He_** _wants you. **He** claimed you._ Of course, that could all change before he knows it, but the thought calms Haru, warms him up inside, and he takes a deep breath.

_Akihito isn’t going to dump you either. Not unless you really screw up._

“Oh, God. What if I screw up?” Haru says aloud, earning a couple of strange glances from students sitting nearby.

He jumps up and starts walking, raking a hand through his bangs. Asami-sama hadn’t seemed disappointed after…

Haru blushes.  What he and Aki do will be nothing like that evening, he’s almost certain, but still…it had been good, extremely good—painful and wonderful and shattering , and Akihito had been there too.  With just him and Aki together it will surely be just as good, different maybe, but, there’s nothing to worry about it.

Nothing.

Haru takes another deep breath and blows it out. A moment later he huffs out a sigh.

He takes out his phone, staring uncertainly for a second, and then pulls up Asami’s number, making himself hit the call button before he can chicken out.

Asami picks up quicker than he was expecting, and Haru’s heart starts trip-hammering in his chest.

“Hello, Haru-kun,” Asami’s smooth voice greets him.

“Asami-sama…hi…” he says rather stupidly, and then his mind goes blank. 

The brief silence seems to last forever, and then Asami’ voice takes on a teasing quality. “Did you call just to hear my voice, sweet boy, or was there something that you needed?”

Haru blushes profusely, even though Asami can’t see his consternation. “Ah, no.”  He gives a short, awkward laugh and tries to figure out what to say. “I just…I was…”

“You were…?” Subtle amusement is definitely there, but Asami sounds honestly curious…and patient, and his voice softens as if he’s trying to coax Haru into speaking his mind.

“Well…you…you know what Akihito and I were planning to do after…after…” Haru’s voice drops low, to almost a whisper, and his blush deepens. “After I wasn’t sore anymore.”

“I am aware, yes.” Asami acknowledges serenely. Haru relaxes a bit.

“Well, I think…I mean…tonight…”

“You and Akihito intend to be together tonight.”  It’s not a question, but Asami sounds perfectly collected, and even approving, and Haru relaxes a little more.

“Y-yes…”

“I sense there’s a ‘but’ here somewhere.” A little of the amusement is back. “Do you wish my blessing? I can assure you that I give it freely.”

“Asami-sama…” Haru knows he’s joking, in a way, in another sense, he knows it’s quite serious _and_ important. “No, I mean, of course, I want that, but that’s not why I…called.”

“Then tell me, sweet boy. I promise to behave for a least a few moments. Tell me what has you so worked up.”

Haru closes his eyes as his throat tightens and his chest swells with emotion. Asami’s voice has softened again, and Haru knows Asami is trying to put him at ease.

“I started thinking about…things,” Haru says haltingly. “About how I’m not very good at relationships. How maybe I’m not very good at…at…pleasing someone…in bed.” Haru ignores the painful embarrassment of this disclosure and barrels forward, spitting out his remaining words in a rush. “I just…I just want Akihito to _like_ it. I want it to be good for him. _I_ want to be good. But I’m not sure if I…if I—“

Asami cuts him off gently. “Shh, Haru.  I want you to be silent a moment and listen to me. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Asami-sama,” Haru whispers.

“Do you trust me, Haru-kun? Do you believe I speak the truth?” Asami asks softly.

“Yes, of course,” Haru says immediately.

“And may I ask you a question?” He waits for the small sound of assent from Haru before he poses it. “What do you think I felt the night I took you to _my_ bed, Haru-kun?”

“I…I…” Haru stammers. “I hope you were…pleased.”

“Hm…” Asami sighs then, Haru’s stomach flips in something like dread. Has he upset Asami? But Asami starts speaking again. “I can see that I must spell this out to you much more clearly. Yes?”

“Yes, Asami-sama.” Haru clutches the phone to his ear apprehensively.

“I chose _you_. Akihito chose _you_. Just as you chose us. We chose to bring you into our lives and our bed.  We did not do this on a whim or because our sex lives were lacking or because we were bored or because of any other reason other than that we find _you_ infinitely pleasing in all your aspects. How skilled you are or aren’t is unimportant. Your _desire_ to please is a heady thing. Your sweetness, your beauty both within and without, your quiet but strong spirit that sometimes flares to precarious levels—for you that is, for I shall enjoy taming you all the more when my sweet boy turns defiant—all these things and more make you more pleasing than you can know. Have a little faith in that, my sweet Haru. In _us_. And in yourself.”

Spellbound, Haru listens to it all, flushed and trembling. “I will,” he whispers, not trusting his voice. “Thank you, Asami-sama.”

“May I offer you one piece of advice that I think will serve you well in most circumstances, and certainly will be of great use to you tonight?”

“Yes, please.”

“Have _fun_.” All the amusement is back in Asami’s voice, and Haru can’t help but grin this time.

He even laughs. “Yes, Asami-sama. We will.”

***

So it’s all right then. He rides home in a sort of haze of happy excitement until he parks and realizes he’s promised to fix dinner without figuring what he has on hand and can come up with in three hours. He smacks himself in the forehead in chagrin and runs to the elevator.

He’s digging through the refrigerator cursing and talking to himself a few minutes later, wondering if he has time to go to the market, but to his relief he has the ingredients for salad and grilled fish with steamed vegetables, so he chops feverishly and then leaves the fish to marinate while he takes a shower.

He’s dumping vegetables into the steamer and checking the rice when the doorbell rings. He’s not sure why he sprints for the door as though he’s afraid Haru will give up and leave, but he does. His socks skid on the smooth hardwood floor so that he has to hang onto the doorknob for dear life as he flings the door open. Haru looks startled and a bit alarmed.

“Hi,” gasps Aki, straightening up and grinning foolishly.

“Are…is everything okay?” asks Haru tentatively.

“What? Oh! Yeah, great! I was just…um. Hi! Come in. How was your day?” He’s babbling and he knows it as he steps back so Haru can step inside and toe off his shoes on the tatami mat by the door. “Are you hungry?” he asks anxiously.

“Sure?” says Haru, looking a little mystified.  Aki leads the way into the kitchen, chattering animatedly about what he’s fixing. He grabs the bottle of wine he has chilling out of the refrigerator and pours two glasses.

“I don’t know a damn thing about wine except how to drink it, but Asami opened this same kind last time we had something like I made tonight and it’s really good.” He clinks their glasses together and then takes a sip, staring at Haru over the rim of his glass.

 _Fuck,_ but he’s pretty. He keeps using words like pretty and beautiful to describe Haru, but it’s not that he think Haru is feminine. Instead he has an almost fey-like loveliness, with his black-as-night hair falling in his fathomless blue eyes, his fair and luminous skin, the slender arms and legs of a dancer; muscled but slim. His mouth with its full lower lip makes it look on the verge of a pout and Aki always wants to just bite him there. He watches Haru’s mouth as he sips his own wine and then lowers his glass with a shy smile, the tip of his pink tongue licking moisture from that lip, and Aki thinks about how it felt on his…

He sets his glass down on the island and takes Haru’s from his hand, putting it beside his own. He steps up to Haru and takes his face in gentle, nearly trembling hands. The kiss is a bit hesitant at first, not because Aki isn’t used to kissing him, but because he realizes that tonight he doesn’t have to STOP. It deepens quickly until they’re almost eating at each other’s mouths and Aki is grinding against Haru. He pulls his head back with great mental effort and gasps,

“Are….hah….are you sure you’re hungry?”

“Actually, I’m famished. I didn’t eat lunch today,” Haru says.

The look on Akihito’s face is priceless, and Haru can’t keep the straight face for long. He bursts out laughing, and Akihito growls and kisses him again like _he’_ s famished. Akihito tastes like wine, and Haru moans invitingly, his hips tilting toward Akihito.

“Aki…” he breathes, when he’s finally let up for air. “I’ve been _dying_ for it all day. All _week_.  And I want you to fuck me. Right...” he leans in and his pink tongue flicks into Akihito’s ear, “now.”

“Nope, but I’m gonna do my best to make love to you,” he whispers, after he stops laughing and trying to decide if he wants to smack Haru on the ass for fucking with him like that. He doesn’t, because that’s not what tonight is about for him, or for Haru he hopes, and besides, the joke has broken some of the tension caused by their nervousness. He turns, taking his hands off Haru with reluctance, feeling like if he lets go, his friend will just disappear and he won’t get to do what he wants to do oh, so very badly, and this will all have been a dream. But once he turns off the steamer under the vegetables and turns the rice down to warm, Haru is still there.

“Will you…,” he swallows around a strange lump in his throat, because although what he feels for Asami is real and intense and terrifying and consuming and exciting, what he feels for Haru warms him down to his toes and fills him with a soft wonder that he’s never felt in his life, a tender thing he wants to nourish and care for and protect deep inside his heart where nobody can laugh at it, not even Haru. Not that Aki thinks he WOULD laugh, because Haru is kind and thoughtful, but he couldn’t stand to see Haru thinking he’s silly or cheesy, or just not understanding if Aki tries to explain it. So he swallows the lump and holds out his hand. “Will you come to bed with me?”

For a moment, Aki thinks maybe he is wrong to hide any part of what his heart feels from this boy, because Haru’s face is luminous with happiness for a moment, and then desire rides up to replace it and he takes Akihito’s hand. Aki leads the way to Asami’s bedroom, because his own bed is small, and because this feels more right somehow, since even though Asami isn’t here, THIS is the place they have shared and will share all kinds of terrifying and amazing things, and is where they belong. He wishes he had lit the candles earlier, because he feels really silly doing it now, while Haru watches him, but he does it anyway with a stubborn set to his chin because he LIKES candles and they smell really good and everybody looks more awesome by candlelight and he wants to see Haru’s skin glowing golden for him. At least Haru doesn’t protest, tell him it’s not necessary, that he doesn’t need them.

With the warm scent of sandalwood filling the room, Aki goes back to Haru and looks into his eyes for a long moment that trembles with expectation.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” he asks shyly, and Haru just kisses him. Then they are kissing each other like they don’t need to breathe, like this is all they need and they need it DESPERATELY. Aki moans as his cock hardens immediately and painfully. His fingers go to Haru’s shirt and he starts to undo the buttons. Haru tries to do the same for him, but he stops what he’s doing and takes the other boy’s hands.

“Let me,” he whispers. “I…I want to take your clothes off. I want to see you.”

He can see Haru’s blush even in the forgiving soft glow of the candles, and it makes him smile and he leans in for another kiss while he slowly finishes unbuttoning the shirt, tugging it gently out of Haru’s pants and sliding it down his arms. Dropping it on the floor, he runs his fingers up the other boy’s arms to his shoulders. He traces the lines of Haru’s throat and chest and belly, giggling in a very unmanly manner when Haru cringes and squirms and makes very undignified noises when Aki inadvertently discovers he’s a little ticklish along his ribs.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, forcing himself to stop laughing, because Haru’s face is even redder.

“It’s okay,” breathes Haru.

Staring into those shining blue eyes, Aki unbuttons Haru’s pants. He glances down when Haru writhes inexplicably and laughs when he notices Haru using his toes to tug off his own socks and Aki blushes a little then too because everybody knows if you’re trying to be all sexy and stuff that shoes or socks (or both, he supposes, because he’s heard in other countries people don’t take their shoes off in their houses, which is just weird) should ALWAYS come before pants. You look a little silly standing around naked except for your socks. Haru just smiles, so Aki bends his head to hide his consternation and slowly unzips the fly of Haru’s pants, noticing with a bit of a sense of glee that Haru’s dick is straining at the front of his pants already. He really DOES want this, and Aki is absurdly relieved, even though there was that really hot oral sex in the hallway the other day and it’s not like he expected Haru to actually change his mind, except that the part of Aki that worries too much DID kind of expect him to change his mind. He pushes Haru’s pants over his slim hips and they drop to the floor with a muffled thwump. Haru steps out of them, and then he’s only wearing his underwear. Aki tugs them off gently, and pushes Haru back onto the bed.

“I just…I want to look at you,” he breathes, fingers reaching for his own buttons. He stares avidly at Haru from head to toe as he slowly takes off his own clothes. He imagines it would probably be making his brand new lover pretty self-conscious except that Haru is staring just as avidly at Aki as he reveals more and more of his own body. “I think you’re beautiful,” he says softly, feeling a little awed and nervous at the sight of the young man he’s proposing to fuck in a minute. No, that’s not the right word for what he wants to do. Making love sounds a little goofy, but it’s how he feels, and what he wants. What both of them want, as evidenced by the fact that when he crawls onto the bed and up over Haru’s body to lean in for a kiss, their naked cocks rub together and they both gasp out loud. Aki groans and lets more of his weight rest on the warm body beneath him, rolling his hips a little.

“Aki…” whispers Haru.

“I can hardly believe you’re real,” he answers, stilling his body’s movements because he really doesn’t plan on spilling all over Haru’s belly right here and now. Except maybe….

He looks searchingly at Haru’s face and reads his own greedy hunger mirrored there. They’re both already so worked up that they’re slicking each other’s tummies with precome.

“We have a small problem,” he admits a little ruefully. Haru looks genuinely alarmed and worried, so he hurries to explain. “No! Not…anything BAD. It’s just…ngh…oh fuck, Haru…I want you so bad right now, but I don’t think I can hold out AT ALL. You feel so good, just like this, that I think I’m gonna explode. I want…I want it to be good for you, when we…well, you know, get to the actual…well. Anyway. I think…nn…I think you’re kinda in the same boat? You’re so _hard_ and you feel so good and…” Aki flushes deeply and decides to stop talking and just demonstrate. He rolls onto his side and tugs Haru until he does the same and they lie facing one another, bodies touching. Aki reaches between them and wraps his hand around both their erections at the same time. Haru’s eyes squeeze shut and he cries out softly at the sensation.

“Ah! Oh God, Aki!”

“Help me,” urges Akihito, stroking his hand up the lengths of their cocks. “It’ll…ngh…take the edge off…ohh….and then we can….hah….take our ti…time. Ohfuck. Haru!” he gasps out his lover’s name when Haru tentatively reaches down and adds his hand to Akihito’s. He lets Aki set the speed and rhythm of the strokes, but rubs his thumb back and forth over the tips of both their reddened cocks, smearing the slick evidence of mutual desire around and wringing moans from both their throats. It seems only moments later that Aki feels his balls draw tight against his body, aching and tingling, and the liquid heat that seems to pool in his belly, and both their little cries of want turn frantic.

“Hah! Ah! HARU!” cries Aki, his cock jerking and pulsing against Haru’s, pumping out his spunk over their intertwined fingers and onto the bedspread and their bellies, and he’s inwardly relieved when the pulsing sensation pulls Haru along with him and they shudder and moan and shatter together, making a rather significant mess and not caring one bit.

 “That was fun,” Haru says breathlessly when they finally come up for air. He grins at Akihito, and they both start giggling. “Aki…” He ducks his head a little, but then his eyes peek up Akihito from beneath his lashes. “You have a really nice body.”

Rather shyly, his fingers skim Akihito’s chest. “It’s sexy.”

“You really think so?” Akihito sounds flustered, almost surprised, but a grin of pleasure spreads over his face that Haru sees him that way.

“Oh, _yeah_.” Haru props himself up on one arm and teases Akihito. “You _have_ seen yourself in the mirror, right?”

“I don’t stand around thinking about how sexy I am!” Akihito protests, and then he smirks, remembering that Asami had promised to be watching. “But I bet Asami does.”

Haru giggles, but then he half rolls on top of Akihito and kisses him again, licking into his mouth with darting little brushes that draw Akihito’s tongue to tangle with his. They tussle playfully for dominance of the kiss, and Haru laughs breathlessly when Akihito rolls them both with a sudden move that leaves Haru on his back and Akihito hanging over him.

Their groins press together, and Haru can already feel his dick coming alive again. He gasps and lifts his slim hips in a wanton little move that make them both groan.

Akihito’s half-lidded eyes and the expression in them send a jolt of arousal straight down to Haru’s cock. Haru can see the warmth, the appreciation, when Akihito’s gaze travels over his body…as well as the lewd, dirty thoughts that make Akihito’s lips turn up when he grinds their cocks together again and Haru moans like a shameless trollop.

“Oh, God, Aki…” Haru breathes. “You _are_ …you’re so sexy.”

“You…you know I think you’re really hot too? I mean Haru,” he breathes, “Look at you. You’re beautiful!”

They both giggle a little at how hard they’re trying to reassure each other. Well, Aki can just show him then.

It’s just perfect. The urgency is less now, and they turn to lie side by side and make out unhurriedly for quite some time, legs tangling just as their tongues do, arms around one another, hands tentatively exploring one another’s bodies. Haru is so beautiful to him by candlelight that it makes his chest hurt, his skin all dusky gold and shadows, his blue eyes almost purple. Everything feels like magic to Aki, like everything is possible. His fingers touch and stroke slowly as he tries to find all the places that make Haru gasp and shiver. There are a lot of them. At the places his touch makes Haru whimper or whisper his name, Akihito follows his fingertips with lips and tongue, kissing and licking the place where Haru’s pulse beats, thick and fast, at his throat, suckling gently at the tight little pebbled nipples and the small hollow of his navel. He softly scrapes his teeth over his lover’s (oh gods, his LOVER) hipbones and tickles the tender hollow where his thigh joins his body with the tip of his tongue. Haru’s cock is hard again by the time he gets to it, and that’s fine, because Aki’s is too. Haru’s touch on his body in return inflames his senses in a way that is entirely different from the skilled touch of his sophisticated older lover, and is yet just as arousing.

They’re both obviously quite ready to get on with things, so with a deep, shaky breath, Aki reaches for the little jar on the bedside table and sits between Haru’s legs, pushing them gently apart to make room for himself, and smiling a little nervously up at Haru’s face. He doesn’t see fear there, and he’s really glad, but Haru looks as nervous as Aki feels.

“Tell me if I hurt you?” he asks, unscrewing the cap. “I mean, more than a little burn when it…uh…stretches. Promise?  I don’t want it to hurt.”

Haru nods wordlessly, his eyes huge in the soft glow of the candles, as Aki dips his fingers into the rich, silky substance in the jar. A little clumsily, he reaches between Haru’s legs. His slippery finger touches the breathless young man just under his balls, gently stroking down his perineum and between his cheeks. Aki is blushing, and knows it, which makes him blush more deeply, but at least Haru doesn’t laugh at him as he works his fingertip around a little looking for the puckered flesh of his asshole. It is with some relief that he finds what he’s looking for. Haru sucks air in hard through his teeth and Aki grins a little bashfully, softly swirling his finger around the tiny hole, fascinated by how it feels. Slowly, and with painstaking care, he presses his fingertip inside. Haru’s hips jerk, which makes Aki pause.

“Did I….does this hurt?” he asks anxiously.

“No,” Haru says tightly. “It doesn’t hurt at all. I’m just…” It’s Haru’s turn to blush. “I’m just so turned on, and… _ahh_ …”  When Akihito touches that way, watches him that way, he can’t help but squirm and writhe because it feel so good, and he can hardly bear the anticipation of waiting for the rest.

And it’s Akihito wanting him, loving him. Haru stares up him, eyes dark and liquid with desire.

Akihito’s finger starts moving again. He’s oh so careful, and Haru almost can’t breathe from the tender expression he sees on Akihito’s beautiful face. When another finger is added to the gentle preparation, Haru’s toes curl against the sheets. His eyes flutter shut and a choked cry lodges in his throat when Akihito inadvertently curls against the spot that makes him jump with helpless pleasure.

“Aki,” he moans. “Ohh…” His thighs spread wider in mindless invitation. “It… it’s good…you…you don’t have to be so careful now. Oh, _please_.”

Akihito’s eyes darken, and he bends down to suck a kiss from Haru’s parted lips. Then, breaking the kiss, he whispers softly into the delicate shell of Haru’s ear, after a flick of his tongue and a gentle nip,

“You…oh _Haru…_ it’s so soft. Like silk inside, like it’s melting. You can’t imagine how it feels!” He wriggles his fingers a little, stroking the exquisitely soft walls of Haru’s asshole with his fingertips, more out of fascination than in an attempt to give Haru pleasure, because he’s transported by the way his lover’s body feels inside. He’s never imagined what the inside of a man’s body feels like from this point of view. He’s only ever thought about how good it feels to him when Asami fingers or fucks him, has never considered why Asami seems to LIKE fingering him so much. So soft, almost delicate, warm and wet and seeming almost fragile. His cock pulses between his legs and he moans softly, because Haru just feels so damn good inside.  Akihito smiles a little wickedly and rubs his fingers back and forth, stroking Haru’s sweet spot teasingly. He knows, from having it done to him, that if he pushes too hard, he’ll milk an orgasm from Haru, and that’s not what he’s trying to do right now.

Haru’s words, that he doesn’t need to be careful, are biting and clawing at his guts because watching the expressions on Haru’s face is making him crazy with lust. It is the thought that it’s him doing this to Haru, giving him this pleasure and making him arch against Aki and let out those gorgeous little cries and moans, that actually keeps him from driving straight inside Haru, heedless and blind with need. He really wants Haru to keep making those sounds. But he also knows that they wouldn’t be here together if Asami, as one of the ties binding them, didn’t fill a deep and endless hunger for the intense, the mildly (and sometimes exquisitely) painful, the heat and drive and thrill of losing all control. Maybe he can manage fulfilling more than one desire. This tenderness is breathtaking, and he wouldn’t trade it for all the world, but oh GODS he’s so HUNGRY for Haru right now!

“Are you sure, Haru? Really sure? Because I can wait. I can add another finger and make this take all night if you want. You feel so damn good, I’m so turned on fingering your tight little hole, that I can hardly stand to stop. But…ngh…oh. Oh, I want to be inside you. I don’t want to hurt you though. Tell me how you want it to be, Haru. I want to make it perfect for you.”

Oh, God. He’s trembling from the tease and slide of Akihito’s fingers, and Akihito’s words make his cock _throb_. His hips rock up into Akihito’s touch, and he’s helpless to stop it. “I…I…want… _all_ of that…” Haru says raggedly. “I want your fingers driving me crazy all night, I want your mouth on mine, and your eyes looking at me like you are right now. I don’t _ever_ want it to stop. But, Aki, I just want you inside me right now so _much_. It won’t hurt me. It won’t, I swear. It’ll hurt if you _don’t_ because…oh…I _need_ it…need you.”

His need seems to swell within his chest, putting pressure on his lungs, taking his breath away. Akihito is so…so _perfect_ …so much more than Haru ever allowed himself to dream he could have.  His hands reach up to touch, beseeching caresses to the smooth, fine skin. In the flickering candle light it’s like a dream that will only feel real once Akihito is inside him and they finally become lovers in every sense of the word. He needs to be closer, as close as possible, to feel Akihito’s heart beating as fast as his.

“Please, Aki…you can go slow and gentle, or any way you want, make it last forever, or make it fast and hard. It doesn’t matter…it doesn’t matter as long as you just put in me, _please_.”

He has no idea how Asami manages to hold back, when faced with heartfelt pleas for completion, because he nearly comes all over both of them right _there_ when Haru starts to softly beg him. He couldn’t resist the pull of those gorgeous pleas if his life depended on it. Panting harshly, he dips his fingers into the jar of lube again and slicks it quickly all over his aching cock. He uses a ridiculous amount of it, and he knows it, but Asami can afford it even if it does cost tens of thousands of yen per ounce, and he’s determined that this is NOT going to hurt his boyfriend even if there’s so much of the damn stuff that they both go shooting off the bed like they’ve been greased. Then of course that thought strikes him as hilarious and he’s snorting with thinly suppressed hilarity when he presses his knees apart between Haru’s splayed legs and lifts them to rest across Aki’s thighs. With his thumb and forefinger, he spreads Haru’s cheeks and all thoughts of laughter vanish at the sight of that pink little crinkled star winking at him.

“Ohh fuck,” he breathes, and presses the head of his cock against Haru’s little hole. He slowly eases his hips forwards, gritting his teeth against the urge to just SHOVE. Haru’s ass opens bit by bit as he pushes carefully, and even though Aki has done this part before, had his cock inside another man, it’s so different now, nothing at all like Feilong riding him so aggressively the two times they’d done that. The _responsibility_ of it awes him a little. Haru’s pleasure and also his SAFETY is in Aki’s hands, although if the sounds he’s making are any indication, his safety isn’t really much in question, especially when he digs his heels into the mattress and pushes against Aki, whose cock suddenly sinks past the clutching ring of muscle inside Haru’s round bottom. Aki cries out at how good it feels. He pulls back a bit, then eases himself into Haru’s body a little further with the next gentle push. Several times he does this, determined to ignore his own clamoring hunger in favor of making it perfect for Haru. Gods, who ever knew sex could be this terrifying? What if he pushes too hard? What if he slips and falls onto Haru with his body’s weight and tears him? What if he comes before Haru and leaves him wanting? Haru makes a muffled sound and when Aki looks at him, he’s startled to see an expression made of mixed desire and amusement and a little impatience on Haru’s face.

“HAA! Hngh, FUCK, Haru,” he shouts, when Haru determinedly lifts his bottom off the bed with his feet and _impales_ himself onto Akihito’s cock. Oh for the sake of all that is holy, it feels so good he thinks his heart may stop.

“I said I needed you NOW,” says Haru with a really cute little growl. “Not next Tuesday!”

“Why you little brat,” exclaims Aki, and Haru laughs, and the laughing…oh the laughing can NOT be a thing, because Haru’s insides ripple and clutch when he laughs, so Aki rocks back and then fucks into Haru sharply.

“Aki!”

“Laugh at me now,” he growls with mock ferocity, and then…ohh…oh then he’s just doing it, gliding his slick cock into and out of Haru’s hot, tight little body, mostly long, slow deep thrusts, but occasionally with a hard little jab of his hips that makes them both cry out and shiver. He’s doing it, finally really doing it, and it’s every bit as amazing as he could have hoped it would be.

The laughter dies away to be replaced by soft gasps. Haru’s tight pucker clenches and flutters around the slick invasion. He feels so stretched and full, but wonderfully so, and any slight discomfort swiftly disappears beneath the delicious friction of Akihito’s cock thrusting inside him.

He doesn’t even try to contain the moans and the ragged breaths that make his chest rise and fall in uneven rhythm. They combine with the squelching, lewd sounds of their lovemaking and turn Haru into even more of a wanton mess. A fine sheet of sweat beads their skin, and Haru tastes salt when he licks his lips to wet them. Akihito looks so gorgeous as he moves above him.  Haru moans, the musky scent of their sex making him dizzy, and his cock slides against his belly with every thrust, leaking a slick, sticky trail on the taut, fluttering muscles.

He’s so turned on, he can barely breathe, feeling the ache deep in groin. _Everything_ is arousing. The sound of Akihito’s soft grunts as he works him, the way his own hips cant up obscenely, thighs splayed over Akihito’s legs. Oh, it’s so fucking hot, and Haru digs his heels in Akihito’s flexing ass, the better to keep him inside, fucking deeper into his greedy little hole.

“Ngh…” His eyes threaten to roll back when Akihito shoves in with a fierce determination that draws his brows together. Akihito pulls back, frowns in concentration, and angles his hips just so, and then…”Ahhh…” Haru cries out as his hips leap off the bed.

“Got it,” Aki mutters to himself with great satisfaction, grinning at Haru from under heavy-lidded eyes with a decided cat-licking-the-cream expression on his face. “Is it good, baby? Right. Ngh. There?” He punctuates his words with carefully aimed thrusts that glide his cock over that same spot again and again. What’s really beautiful about it is that he knows it is, because he knows how he sees stars when it’s done to him, and that every stroke over that one perfect spot winds Haru tighter and tighter with pleasure that burns in his belly and his blood like a slow-catching wildfire, soon to be burning out of control. The sound of his lover’s cries and breathless moans are like drugs ramping Aki’s pleasure up to nearly unbearable heights. Knowing he’s doing this, making Haru feel this good, is one of the best things he’s ever felt. It’s no wonder Asami wants to fuck all the time! This is better than…better than…ok, there’s not much this isn’t better than.

He wants to be closer to Haru, so he drops some of his weight onto his elbows and captures Haru’s mouth in a messy kiss, because every ounce of energy he has for finesse is going to maintaining the right angle and rhythm to his long, slow thrusts inside Haru’s warmth. Haru groans wetly into his mouth, and Aki sucks sloppily on Haru’s tongue, and they both gasp when Aki gives another sharp thrust and it makes Haru’s gripping hole clamp down hard on his cock.

“Oh. Oh gods, Haru,” he whispers into Haru’s mouth, still kissing him between words, “You feel. Nn. So good. So….fuh…fuckin’ good. Can you…ah…can you come like this? Ohhfuck. If you…hng….need to touch yourself….oh, do it. Soon, okay? I’m gonna come soon!”

Haru whimpers, and his hand flies to his cock because it’s _aching_ to be touched, even though he _could_ come on Akihito’s cock right now, especially when Akihito keeps talking, whispering endearments and enflaming words of lust and need. His ass rocks up higher when Akihito’s weight presses forward as their mouths collide, and he feels each hard thrust so deep inside.

“A-Aki,” he groans when Akihito straightens up and begins to pound into him in his final drive toward the blinding pleasure he can feel coiling in the pit of his stomach. Haru’s neck strains as he lifts he head to watch Akihito’s swollen cock drive into his stretched, pink hole, and his own hand flies faster on his own slick shaft.  “Ahhh…” He shudders, and his come shoots in a hot arc to splatter on his taut abdomen and all the way up his chest. In the throes of his climax, his hole quivers and spasms, and Haru sucks in a deep breath, holding it until the melting pleasure makes him collapse against the mattress  in a boneless heap.

Aki has to close his eyes when Haru starts to stroke his own cock  in counterpoint to his thrusts. It looks so HOT, he’s too close, and he really, REALLY wants Haru to come before he does. He sits up and grasps Haru’s thighs so tightly he’s afraid he may be leaving bruises but he can’t help it. He rams himself into Haru’s body harder and faster, feeling his balls tightening, the burn in his belly and the ache in his groin that tells him he doesn’t have much time left. Haru’s cry of release is music to his ears and his breath sobs in his chest in relief that he’s managed to hold on long enough. His lover’s hot little hole quivers and then clamps tight around Aki’s surging cock and he opens his eyes, wide and shocked as an orgasm the likes of which he has never felt sings through his body like something pure and perfect. He looks into Haru’s face, his lover’s name on his lips as he shouts out loud because it just feels too good not to.

Haru goes limp a few seconds before Aki joins him, collapsing like a marionette with its strings cut on top of Haru’s sticky, sweaty body. He’s going to try to care about that in a minute, but not yet. Now everything in the entire world is perfect.

“Perfect,” he whispers, his lips pressed against Haru’s neck, and has the presence of mind to roll onto his side, taking Haru with him, because while he may not be VERY heavy, he’s still more than is pleasant to have pressed against your ribs while you’re trying to remember how to breathe. He smiles, more of a great big, goofy grin really, and Haru returns it. “We’re a mess,” he adds, still grinning.

“You are,” says a voice from the door, and Asami is there, and there is a very odd expression on his face, a depth of tenderness Aki has never seen from him. He tries ineffectually to push Asami’s hands away when Asami sits on the bed beside them and gently starts to help them clean up a little.

“S-stop that! How long have you been here anyway?”

“I’ve only just arrived. Haru…I hope you won’t mind too much. I didn’t want you…either of you…to feel awkward with me here in the room with you. But…I’ve had the home security on and it streams to my phone when I ask it to. I wanted to be here with you. I wanted to be sure everything was well with you both. And, I admit…I wanted to watch. You’re both breathtaking, and that was lovely, and I hope you won’t be angry. You don’t really have the right to hide anything you do from me anymore anyway,” he points out. Aki bites his lip a little, because he’d completely forgotten to mention to Haru that Asami would probably be watching them. Oh…oh NO, what if he feels betrayed? Like they’ve lied to him? Asami seems unconcerned, taking his shirt off…always at least a minor drool-worthy occurrence…and climbing into the bed with them, not pushing them apart, but propping himself on his elbow behind Haru and trickling his fingers down Haru’s arm. He presses a kiss to Haru’s shoulder, and Aki holds his breath.

Haru’s heart is still hammering from the shock of Asami’s sudden appearance. Not that it’s an unwelcome surprise. In fact, though his eyes widen when he hears that Asami has been watching them, they darken too as his pupils dilate reflexively in response to that arousing revelation.

He doesn’t speak when Asami takes off his shirt, but he drinks in the sight, and then he shivers when Asami settles behind him and his lips find his skin.  Akihito is giving him such a strange look, and Haru can’t figure out why until he clues in that Akihito is worried that he’s upset about Asami watching them.  As if he would ever complain about that. It _is_ his right after all.

He shoots Akihito a private, wicked little grin that Asami can’t see. His body is still high on endorphins, his bottom aching just a little from the ride Aki just took, and he can’t feel anything but wonderful. The thought of Asami-sama watching as Akihito fucked him in his big bed is beyond erotic, and Haru is only a _little_ mortified to feel his cock begin to twitch, making a valiant effort to rise again, even though he’s already he’s already just come—twice!

A slow, pink blush still spreads from his face down across his entire body, and he can see the very moment when Akihito finally realizes the only problem is that Haru is a very naughty little boy who can’t ever seem to get enough, and his eyes darken too.  Asami-sama laughs behind him, low and rich and heady.

There’s absolutely no doubt in Haru’s mind that he’s the luckiest person in all the world.

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Deep Throating 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for this chapter comes from a Truth or Dare question posed to Haru by one of our followers, asking him to confess a secret fantasy to Asami. Haru does so, revealing that he wants to be taught how to give head without gagging. This is what happens when Asami decides it's time for that lesson.

They are finishing supper and putting away the dishes when he decides it’s time to grant Haru’s charming request from the other day. He’s watching the way his two boys relate to each other, the way they smile and laugh, and touch each other as often as they can. It’s not sexual, it is merely touching, but it is charming and alluring nevertheless. Their hands brush, their hips bump, they jokingly punch one another on the arm. Their feet hook at the ankle when they sit together at the table or on the couch. 

“As soon as we’re done here, I want you both to go to the bedroom and take each other’s clothes off. I’ll be in to join you in a moment.”

Their heads come up as though synchronized and he finds it terribly endearing that they glance at each other, both shy and eager at the same time, before they turn to look at him.

“Yes, Asami-sama,” says Haru softly, trying not to grin too eagerly.

“Okay,” says Aki, not bothering to hide his own grin. “Are we doing anything special…or are you just horny? Not that, um, there’s anything wrong with that.”

Normally, he’d teach Aki not to be so nosy, but that’s not what he has in mind for tonight….well, not exactly anyway.

“We’re going to give our Haru-kun what he asked for so prettily the other night.”

“What he…Oh!” says Aki, looking confused and then brightening as he realizes what Asami means. Haru, on the other hand, gets it immediately and blushes. He looks pleased and excited too though, so that’s all right.  
Giggling a little and shoving each other, they race to the bedroom to follow his instructions. He takes a detour by the secret room on his way to the bedroom to fetch a sturdy riding crop with a wide, looped leather keeper at the tip. He smacks it a couple of times against his thigh and grins, then strides to the bedroom.

Aki and Haru are making excellent headway, both being stripped down to their underwear and making out so diligently that they don’t hear him come in, even when he clears his throat softly. Gods, they’re gorgeous together. All that youth and innocence and honest lust wrapped up in two beautiful, slim, lithe little bodies that they’re currently grinding together so earnestly that he thinks they’re likely to come soon if he doesn’t stop them.

“AHEM,” he says more vehemently and they jolt in surprise and leap back from each other like they’ve been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “Not that I’m not enjoying the show, but if you get too carried away now, you’re not going to have the patience to let Haru use you as a training device, Akihito.”

Aki blushes and Haru snickers at him. Asami makes a disapproving noise and taps the crop sharply against his leg. Their gazes are drawn to the slender instrument instantly, and their eyes widen in alarm.

“Wh…what’s that for?” asks Aki nervously.

Haru just stares, his blue eyes wide and dark, his pretty mouth open ever so slightly. Asami imagines he can see the pulse beating wildly in the boy’s throat. He’s not afraid though, he’s excited.

“This is a training aid,” he says with a smirk, and walks over to the bed. He unwraps the cord that ties of the pulley concealed behind the curtain at the head of the bed and lowers the hanging bar. “Get on the bed on your knees,   
Akihito,” he says absently as he eyeballs the bar’s height, judging it to be about right.”

Aki opens his mouth to argue, or ask questions, but Asami smirks and points the riding crop at him and he scrambles to obey. 

“Haru, put the wrist cuffs on him, please.”

Haru’s eyes still look a little like saucers, but he leaps to obey with an expression of demonic glee on his face. Asami finds it gratifying that the boy’s sense of mischief is coming to the surface. Being the subject of breathless awe all the time would grow old rather quickly. Aki grumbles, but a light tap of the crop to the back of his leg encourages cooperation. Haru teases Aki as he buckles the leather cuffs attached to the bar securely around the older boy’s wrists, and Aki sticks his tongue out at Haru. 

“Now,” says Asami, lounging on the bed behind Akihito’s kneeling form on one elbow. “Deep throating is a matter of learning to control your gag reflex. Haru, yours isn’t terribly sensitive, so that’s going to make it easier. I want you to sit on the bed in front of Aki and take his cock out of his shorts please. Akihito, you have one job, just be still. 

Aki giggles nervously when Haru approaches him, but the laugh turns into a soft moan as Haru’s fingers close around his semi-erect shaft and draw it free of his shorts.

“Good boy. It’s excellent for our purposes that he’s not fully hard. Take him into your mouth as far as you can. Don’t worry about using your tongue or sucking on him, just see how far down his cock you can get your lips.”

Akihito moans again when Haru applies himself to the assignment with an eager little wriggle of his hips to get closer and a happy little hum in his throat. Asami grins evilly and smacks Akihito sharply on his ass with the keeper at the tip of the crop. Aki yelps and cranes his neck to try to glare over his shoulder at Asami.

“What was that for?” he cries, sounding as wounded as it is possible to sound when his dick is bumping the back of Haru’s throat. 

“You, my dear Akihito, are the training aid. Be quiet, and be still, and let Haru suck your cock like a good boy.”

“That’s not fair,” whines Aki, trying not to squirm. Haru giggles as well as he can with a rapidly hardening erection in his mouth, but he manages to sink his mouth most of the way down Akihito’s shaft before it reaches full arousal and he has to back off, coughing.

“Poor Akihito,” agrees Asami heartlessly. “You’re going to be used shamelessly tonight, no matter what you do. All you can do is kneel there and take it. Now be a good boy and stay still when I tell you, or you get more from the crop.”  
Aki whimpers. 

Seeing Akihito trussed up so nicely does all kinds of wonderful things for Haru’s libido, which he tries his best to ignore because he really does want to learn how to do this properly, and for that he needs to focus. But he can’t help but feel a little wicked delight in Aki’s predicament considering that Akihito had laughed at him the other day when he’d been the one at Asami’s mercy.  
Haru’s upturned eyes dance, and he presses the flat of his tongue along the underside of Akihito’s shaft and massages it for a second or two just to tease before he sinks his mouth down the length of it again. Now that Akihito is hard, he’s more cautious, going slowly until the head just brushes the back of his throat. After a moment, he tenses up slightly in anticipation and pushes forward, trying to go deeper this time, but it’s no use. His eyes smart, and he chokes a little and pulls back. It’s a bit embarrassing, and he flushes.

Asami watches Haru struggle for a minute and then chuckles. 

“Stop, Haru-kun, you’re going to make yourself sick,” he says in amusement. Haru pulls back, his face red, coughing a little. Aki groans and his hips roll towards Haru. Asami absently spanks him again with the riding crop and turns his attention to Haru, leaving poor Akihito panting and whimpering softly. 

“You’re approaching it wrong, little boy. Don’t tense up. At least, not that way. When you take his cock in your mouth, extend your tongue and flatten it along his length…imagine it as though you’re opening your mouth and saying ‘ahh’ for your doctor to look at your throat, and you have to flatten your tongue. As you take it into the back of your mouth, force your throat open as though you’re yawning around it. It helps if the cock is lubricated….Ah. Hold on.”  
Smirking at Akihito with a glint in his eye, he fetches the lube from the bedside table and opens the jar. Scooping out a little with his fingernail, he slowly spreads it over the boy’s weeping cock, He takes much longer than is necessary, gently squeezing and stroking the whole length. He rubs his thumb back and forth over the reddened tip, smearing precome and making Aki whine. His hips jerk helplessly and Asami squeezes a little harder.

“Don’t you dare come,” he purrs threateningly, and rains down a dozen or so sharp slaps to the boy’s round bottom.

“Ah…hah….Asami!” cries Akihito. Asami chuckles and winks at Haru.

“Give it a try Haru-kun. Akihito…you can choose. I’ll let Haru finish you off right now but it will cost you. I’m going to use this crop on your ass while he does it.”

“Oh…oh….yeah, do it. Haru, please! I’m…fuck…so hard…oh please!”

“Go ahead, Haruki. He’s doing a lousy job as a training aid like this anyway. Try what I told you, but then have pity on the poor boy. Do a good job, unless you want his poor little ass black and blue for the rest of the week. Best get busy.”

And with that, he snaps the crop hard across Aki’s backside with a loud pop. Aki yowls and jerks in his cuffs, but his cock seems to grow even harder.

Akihito’s theatrics aside, Haru doesn’t think he’s suffering too badly given how hard his dick is. Haru stifles his giggles by sucking the rampant erection into his mouth, which makes Akihito writhe even more. He tastes a little like cinnamon spice and vanilla now, which sets off Haru’s own Pavlovian response. The ache between his legs makes him gasp, but then his eyebrows draw together in concentration, and he begins to go through the steps Asami gave him.

Don’t tense up.

Haru settles himself on his hands and knees until he has a comfortable angle to rock smoothly back and forth if he chooses. He does this a few times, bobbing slowly along Akihito’s shaft as he listens to the smack of the crop on his backside, and breathing deeply through his nose.

Okay, say ‘ahhh’.

He goes still a moment, and then flattens his tongue and opens his throat like Akihito’s cock is the biggest tongue depressor in the world. He almost starts laughing at the imagery—he’ll never be able to look Dr. Yamada in the eye at his next appointment—but then Akihito moans rather pitifully and Haru snaps back to his task and does his best to open his throat even more as he slowly rocks forward.  
He can feel the head touch the back of his throat, and Haru does his best to suspend the natural reaction. Don’t think about it, just do it. For a moment, it works, Akihito’s cock slips in a little further. It brushes the walls of his throat. It’s working! Haru’s hips wriggle a little in excitement, and he dares to simulate the tiniest hint of a swallow.

Akihito’s hips buck forward as he cries out, and then Haru is swallowing for real, or unswallowing, trying to force out the object that has intruded so suddenly and roughly down his throat. His sudden convulsions don’t seem to affect   
Akihito’s pleasure because he comes in Haru’s mouth while Asami rains down a series of blows on his pumping bottom.

Haru is just barely able to keep his mouth around Akihito’s cock, though it’s sloppy and noisy, and he’s got a few tears leaking from the corners of his eyes from, and he can’t quite breathe yet. Some of Akihito’s come leaks out and dribbles down his chin, but he manages, with a desire to make up for his ineptness, to swallow most of it, and he licks Akihito clean until he’s whimpering from the contact to his over-sensitized flesh.  
He stares up at Akihito’s contorted expression that can’t decide if it’s torment or pleasure and thinks it’s just about the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Not bad for your first informed try, Haru-kun,” says Asami, setting the crop down. Akihito sags in the cuffs, gasping for breath and shuddering. “Try it again now that he’s soft. You won’t have much trouble now, and you can work on handling it as he grows aroused again.”

“Wha-at?” protests Aki. “N-no! Don’t suck on it anymore right now, Haru, it hurts…. I’m too….OW!”

Asami snaps the crop across the back of his left thigh and looks significantly at Haru, who obeys Asami quickly. Aki whimpers and pleads with them to stop. Asami coolly instructs Haru to ignore Aki and walks him through swallowing the mostly flaccid cock again.

Then he grins wickedly and pushes two fingers, slick with lube, into Akihito’s asshole and begins to slowly press against his prostate gland. Aki howls and shudders and pleads for mercy.

It is easier when Akihito is mostly soft, he can get it in his mouth without strain, though he feels enough sympathy for Aki that he does so as gently as possible without outright defying Asami. He cradles the limp shaft on his tongue, trying not to hollow his cheeks as he sucks him in deeper. A little thrill of excitement flashes through him when he manages not to flinch or gag when the head hits his soft palate this time.  
But whatever Asami is doing to Akihito changes things fast. Aki’s hips can’t seem to keep still and his cock swells rapidly in Haru’s mouth, stretching his jaws and making it bit harder to control how fast and deep Haru takes him.  
Well, Asami never said he couldn’t use his hands. He kneels up a little and grabs Akihito’s hips, holding him as still as he can, and this time he does suck hard first, eliciting a sharp cry from Aki and making his hips jerk backwards for a change.

It wasn’t quite as well thought out as Haru hoped because Asami does something in return that makes Aki’s hip surge forward again, and Aki lets out a ragged moan. Haru gags slightly, but pulls back only a little. His fingers curl tighter around Akihito’s hips, and he squeezes his eyes shut with determination.

Excruciatingly slowly, he pushes forward, opening his throat, pressing the flat of his tongue against Akihito’s erection, and he thinks about how hot it is that he’s on his knees being taught to swallow down Akihito’s cock by Asami-sama, how hot Akihito is forced to his pleasure and writhing helplessly in his bonds and moaning like the filthiest little boy in the world. He thinks about one day being allowed to do this for Asami-sama too, though the thought of being able to take that properly makes his heart race in apprehension and his cock throb in knee-weakening lust.

Akihito’s cock slides a little deeper, his throat accepting the intrusion. A brief flicker of reflex makes his stomach quiver, but he fights off the feeling and focuses on the erotic pleasure of the act, on how much he wants it, and how much it turns him on. And when Akihito’s sobs out some sort of garbled cry, it makes his groin flash in sudden heat. His throat convulses, and it’s hard to breathe, and Aki is thrashing despite his tight grip, so Haru slides back again and licks and sucks and moans around the throbbing cock in his mouth.

Akihito whimpers desperately. He’d been turned on before they even got started, and it’s so much more fucking erotic that he ever could have imagined…to be tied up and helpless, used as a piece of meat, a tool upon which Asami trains Haru. His own pleasure is irrelevant. He is here to be used. The crippling lust it raises in him shocks him a little, and so it’s no surprise that he’d come so soon in the proceedings.  
But now…oh gods…there’s no respite. He isn’t allowed to recover, he is the demo model and he’s STILL being used. Haru’s lips and tongue softly stroking his overly-sensitive cock are painful, and Asami’s heartlessly rough prostate massage aches in his balls and cock like nothing he’s ever felt before. His breath sobs in his chest and he tries begging Asami to let him just rest for a minute, but the only result of his pleas are more hot lashes of the crop across his bottom and legs. Asami isn’t beating him. It’s enough biting sting to make him whimper, and has brought tears to prickling at the corners of his eyes, but it is just about exactly the amount of pain that makes him burn all over with oh and yes and MORE. His cock is hard again much faster than he would have thought possible, buried in Haru’s mouth.

He cries out in thrilled shock when he feels the muscles of Haru’s throat working around the head of his cock and the first couple of inches of his shaft. He almost howls at the suction and tightness of it, and isn’t even aware of the sounds coming out of his own mouth. Haru works valiantly for long enough to turn Aki into a quivering mess, and then goes back to sucking him, and his sexy little moan is Aki’s undoing. Asami’s fingers rub his sweet spot and Haru’s tongue strokes the underside of his cock and his balls ache and the head of his cock is so sensitized he can’t stand it, and then he is coming again, helplessly, spilling into Haru’s hot, wet, perfect little mouth, his asshole clenching Asami’s fingers.

He sags bonelessly in the cuffs, his head down, breathing hard, and he tenses when Asami’s fingers shift, because it’s going to ache a bit when he pulls them out.

Except he doesn’t. He merely starts stroking and teasing Aki’s sweet spot again

“Oh…oh please,” he whimpers, frantic. “Please no. I can’t. Asami PLEASE not again! I…oh Haru no…it’s too sensitive, I can’t stand…Ah! I can’t! Let me rest, please! Just…just a little…ohh…”

“Again, Haru,” instructs Asami, ignoring Aki entirely. “Before you start, see if you can make yourself yawn. The way your throat opens and the muscles of it freeze while you’re yawning is what you should try to do with it while you’re taking his cock down your throat.”

And Haru starts to go down on him again. Aki whimpers pitifully, begging and begging for mercy that doesn’t come.

Akihito sounds so good begging, and Haru can empathize so thoroughly that he can’t help humming a long, drawn out groan of lust around his mouthful of Aki’s cock that gradually hardens once again. He must have a little bit of sadist in him after all because his gaze slides up to watch Aki’s contorted face and his parted, pretty lips as he gasps and sobs. 

It’s too sexy for words, and Haru’s own heated arousal makes it even easier for him to do as Asami says. He’s so worked up by now, that his body seems to melt and flow with his efforts. It doesn’t feel nearly as forced this time when he takes Aki in deeper. His eyes close and he can feel what Asami meant this time, feel it working, and he makes another low, hungry sound as Akihito’s shaft slides against the walls of his throat. He shudders and stills for just a moment before slowly drawing back and then taking it down his throat once more. 

Akihito hasn’t stopped his litany of pleas, but Haru wants so badly for Aki to like it, to know how much Haru wants to do this for him. His eyes look up through his lashes and gasps when he sees Akihito’s gaze on him, dark and liquid and frantic. It shoots right down to his cock, and he takes Aki as deep as he can, his nostrils flaring as he struggles to breathe, to stay in the moment, and Akihito’s hips undulate with what Haru knows is a completely involuntary impulse. Akihito sobs, and Haru gasps, his throat convulsing around the buried shaft.

Akihito writhes and struggles in the cuffs, and gets another sharp spank with the crop for his efforts. There are real tears in his eyes now, and he looks at Asami pleadingly.

“Asami PLEASE! I can’t!” he sobs.

“Yes you can,” purrs Asami, still gently rubbing that spot inside his body that feels so good and hurts so bad right now. “Just relax, pretty toy. Relax and let it happen. There’s nothing you can do. Stop fighting it so. Feel us, touching you, using you. Feel Haru’s throat around your cock. Look at him. It’s so HOT, Aki-kun. Can you take it?”

“I…I…oh,” he cries, shuddering, because now he CAN and it just wrecks him. “Yes. Oh Haru!.”

Haru whines eagerly, tears in his eyes from the strain of holding Aki’s cock so far down the back of his throat, and he’s so hard and it aches so! And then Asami’s hand is wrapped around his throbbing cock, and he’s murmuring to Haru how well he did, what a good boy he is, and that he can come now too as soon as Akihito comes down his throat one last time. 

Akihito’s eyes roll back in his head when the muscles of Haru’s throat grip and work his cock and he howls when he comes again at last, tears rolling down his flushed cheeks, and it is exquisite and amazing and yet also hurts and he has never felt so overwhelmed in his life. He’s dimly aware of Asami murmuring to Haru, “Come,” and that Haru does with a muffled cry, and then he falls back on the bed and pants heavily, watching as Asami kneels up by Aki, kissing his slack mouth.

This time when he sags in the cuffs, he’s only barely aware of anything that’s happening around him, and only mumbles softly when Asami gently takes him down and lays him on the bed, carefully chafing his wrists to make sure he hasn’t cut off his blood flow. He tries to rouse himself a little, but Asami scolds him when he tries to protest, and he’s so tired and all his limbs feel like they’ve melted.

“M’sorry,” he mutters, but Asami informs him that training aids don’t have anything to apologize for, and then Haru burrows under the covers and roots around, rearranging Aki’s leaden limbs to his liking so that they are cuddled together in a knot, rather like contented puppies. Haru’s skin feels so good against his, and Haru’s hands stroking his back are soothing and Haru’s lips on his own, and scattering kisses on his cheeks and nose (this makes him snort briefly with laughter) and eyelids that Aki is falling asleep rather quickly. Haru asks him shyly if it was all right and Aki squeezes him tight. He feels Asami’s warm bulk behind him, spooning up against his back, and Asami’s arm covering them both.

“Perfect,” me mumbles as sleep tugs him gently under. “You’re perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The instructions in this chapter on how to deep-throat a dick are, to the best of my knowledge, the most effective ways of training someone. But that's my knowledge. I am sure there are other ways which are just as effective.
> 
> The "keeper" mentioned in reference to the riding crop is the correct term for the little flap of leather at the tip of the crop. In riding crops, this can be a loop of leather, a flap, a short braided tress, or another style. It is called a keeper because it was designed to keep the tip of the crop from marking the horse's skin. People have much more fragile skin than horses, so it doesn't actually do much good for preventing marks!


	9. Aphrodisia Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again, thanks to the utterly unsympathetic, sadistic nature of our Tumblr followers on wheremydem0nsh1de.tumblr.com, it is poor Haruki's turn to be subjected to an unasked-for aphrodisiac. He calls his Asami-sama for help, and oh....does he get it.
> 
> Please be aware that this story contains the unwitting and nonconsensual ingestion of unknown drugs via cookies disguised as a gift from Akihito. We, the writers and orchestrators of this little world do NOT condone this shit. You people...I swear. Poor Haru.

Haru contentedly munches another cookie. Akihito is a life-saver. He’s been so busy, he hasn’t had time to go grocery shopping, and finding the care package of Akihito’s latest recipe stashed in his backpack when he’d gotten home from school had put a smile on his face and kept his stomach from growling all day. The cookies have fueled him through three-fourths of his paper, but now the warm tea he’s washed them down with has made him drowsy, or maybe it was the all-nighter he’d just pulled.  
He should probably make an effort to go out and find some real food, but a wide yawn breaks over Haru’s face as he pushes back from his laptop and falls back against his futon. A quick nap to rejuvenate before he puts the finishing touches on his paper is what he needs more.  
Not two minutes later, Haru is passed out cold in nothing but a thin t-shirt and his boxer briefs. He wakes up not too much later with a cry on his lips and a mess in his underwear. He shifts up on his elbows and stares down at the damp mark spreading on the front of his briefs. Fuck. His chest heaves a little, and he shakes his head in disbelief. He can’t remember the last time he had a wet dream.  
Just remembering the contents of this latest one make him blush hot red, but then the ghost of that sensation seems to hover around him, raising the fine hairs on his skin, and taking hold in his mind. Asami’s scent and fingers, his cock and toys and his voice…  
Shit. Shit. Shit.  
Haru’s dick is already tenting the front of his briefs, despite his having come seconds ago. And it’s bad, so bad, because he remembers yesterday morning quite clearly. Asami’s voice had been like dark velvet in his ear, telling him not to touch himself while he was away from them, that it wasn’t allowed, and oh, he would pay so dearly if he did. Asami-sama had outlined in great and filthy detail exactly what he’d do to him if he disobeyed.  
Haru groans, his cock throbbing with an insistent ache that demands instant attention. His balls ache too, like the worst case of blue balls he’s ever had, and he doesn’t understand, but his hand slides down his belly, and he has to grab his wrist with his other hand to stop himself.   
Because, fuck, he wants to do it so bad. Pure need makes his belly burn, and he rolls onto his stomach, trying hard not to just hump mindlessly against the futon. The friction is almost too much, and Haru shudders, whimpering into his pillow.  
Oh God. Just once. The first time didn’t count if he was asleep, he reasons with himself. He could just get himself off quickly, and Asami-sama wouldn’t even have to know.   
He’ll ask, a small voice in Haru’s head whispers. And even if he didn’t, Haru’s guilt would eat him alive. He doesn’t want to disobey. He wants to be good for Asami-sama.   
His groin seems to flare up in response to that resolve, and he groans weakly. The ache is unbearable; as is the almost undeniable desire to shove his hands down his briefs and jerk himself off as quickly as he can.  
Gritting his teeth, he pushes to his knees and then stands, hobbling to the bathroom on shaky legs. He turns the shower on and strips off his shirt and sticky underwear. The cold water makes him yelp when he steps in, but instead of the icy spray making his erection wilt, the prickling massage is unbearably stimulating, and Haru comes with a shocked gasp before he can even think about stopping himself.  
Unthinkingly, he shuts off the water and stares down at his cock. It’s gone soft finally, but the sense of urgent need remains. He shivers as the air hits his cool, wet skin, and his nipples tighten. They throb too, as if desperate to be touched and sucked and licked.   
His cock twitches, and Haru moans helplessly again. With a sense of drugged fascination, he watches it fill again, turning red and engorged in a matter of moments, and the ache between his legs intensifies. He knows, this time, there’s no way he can hold back. He’s never felt so feverish, so turned on by every stray thought and sensation and the very air around him.   
No, that’s not even right. Turned on doesn’t convey at all the intensity of his need right now. He feels exactly like all those things Asami calls him when he’s fucking Haru open with his fingers, or tongue, or his dick, and Haru is moaning like a whore…lewd, dirty, a filthy little slut who’ll beg and plead and do anything to come.  
“Oh, God…”  
Haru makes it back to the futon and sprawls on his back. His thighs are spread wide, and he curls one fist in the covers, fighting for control, while he reaches for his phone with his free hand. He wishes he could call Aki instead because that would be so much less excruciatingly embarrassing, but really, he’s almost beyond caring, and only Asami-sama can give him what he desperately needs now.  
He stifles a moan when Asami’s voice purrs in his ear some greeting Haru can hardly process. With no thought for eloquence, he blurts out, “Oh, please, Asami-sama, please, I need to come, please…please…may I?” His hips roll up, trying to fuck the air, and he almost sobs, but presses the palm of his hand against his mouth instead.

Asami chuckles softly. He’d known the moratorium on self-satisfaction coupled with his detailed description of what will happen to Haru if he disobeys would combine to make Haru think about it. A lot. He’s obviously worked himself into quite a state. It’s more fun than Asami wants to admit to fuck with him a little.  
“Have you been a naughty boy, Haru-kun?” he purrs wickedly. “You sound a bit…desperate. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost guess you’ve just come already and are thinking that if you get permission after the fact, you can pretend you don’t deserve to be punished.”  
Haru’s muffled whimper at these words has remorse in it, and Asami goes quite still. He’s not even sure what to say at first. He’d have bet an enormous portion of his fortune that Haru would cut off his hands before disobeying a direct order. He sits up straight in his chair and stares at his phone a moment. The small flash of real anger at being defied takes him by surprise. He hadn’t realized Haru was already so important to him that his disobedience would bring true disappointment.   
“I…I….I’m so s-sorry, Asami-sa…sama,” whimpers Haru pitifully. He pauses to let out a desperate little moan. “I didn’t mean to! It just…ohhhhh…just happened. PLEASE, Asami-sama…please, please let me come! Just once, and I’ll be all right…”  
“Disobeying me so soon?” says Asami, his usual sardonic amusement stepping in to pinch hit for the hurt. It isn’t as though being so turned-on by the thought of him that Haru can’t control himself is ACTUALLY a bad thing, but oh…there will be consequences. Haru stammers something about not touching and wet dreams and the shower, and his words are disjointed with his arousal. “You know what I said would happen to you, don’t you? I’m going to have to punish you quite severely, you know. “  
Haru replies that Asami can punish him any way he sees fit but then repeats his plea. Asami riles him up further for a little longer. Gradually, he realizes that it doesn’t seem Haru has actually touched himself yet, that he’s come untouched in his sleep due to a very vivid dream, and he’s still very aroused. He frowns at himself in the small mirror behind the wet bar in his office that this realization brings with it a small sense of relief.  
“Here’s the deal I’ll offer you,” he says softly, finding the sound of Haru’s ragged breathing and small whimpers to be quite arousing to him as well, “You may touch yourself now IF…”  
There’s a short, shocked cry on the other line and he stares at the phone in his hand in startled amazement that he hasn’t even got the words about before Haru has, apparently, got his hands in his shorts and is coming RIGHT NOW. Something Haru has said earlier in the conversation suddenly swims to the surface of his mind and won’t go away. Haru had said, “Just once, and I’ll be all right.”  
“Haruki,” he says sharply. “Are you all right?”  
“I…I…I…” Haruki says in rather high-pitched and frantic voice. “I’m fine, A--Asami-sama. I…oh…OH…it’s…unggh…”  
“Haru!” Asami stands up to bark into the phone. “Tell me what is going on this instant.”  
“It won’t stop,” Haru whimpers. His breathing sounds even more ragged now. “It’s…I’m hard again…and…it hurts.” He sobs out a moan. “God, I need…I need to again…s-sorry….sorry, Asami-sa…ahhhh…”  
It sounds as if Haru has dropped the phone, and Asami hears the unmistakable slap of flesh as Haru begins to work himself to another orgasm. 

He’s out the door and running for the car, barking orders at Kirishima and Suoh as he runs, because it isn’t the first time something like this has happened. It has, in fact, happened to both he AND Akihito and also to Feilong. Who had nearly died. Anger and fear war in his whirling thoughts as he snaps tersely at Suoh to drive, damn it. Kirishima is calling Dr. Yamato before he reschedules Asami’s meetings for the rest of the day, and will keep the office running while he’s gone. Asami phones Akihito as he sits impatiently in the back seat.  
“Hey,” says Aki. “lemme guess…you missed me SO much you just had to call and hear my voice?”  
“It’s Haru,” says Asami tensely, and Akihito’s jesting tone turns frightened in an instant.  
“Haru? What’s wrong with him?”  
“I’m not sure yet, but I think he’s been given some kind of drug similar to the ones we both got a few months ago.”  
“Oh gods,” breathes Akihito. “It’s not like…like Feilong, is it?”  
“I don’t know. He sounded at least semi-coherent on the telephone. I’m headed there now. If I’m right, he’s going to need both of us. Can yo…”  
“I’ll meet you there.”  
And Akihito hangs up the phone, presumably to dash to the parking garage for his vespa. Asami thinks briefly that he hopes Akihito will not ride so recklessly that he dumps that scooter and hurts himself. But he can’t let himself worry about BOTH of them. Suoh makes it across town to Haru’s student apartment building in record time, and Asami is out the door before the limo comes to a complete stop, through the door and hitting the stairwell with all the speed he can muster. He doesn’t bother waiting for the crappy little elevator.   
He doesn’t stop to knock, because if he doesn’t miss his guess, Haru’s going to be in no shape to get up and answer it anyway. He picks the locks in seconds and pushes the door. Haru has the chain on, as any sensible person should, but a swift kick to the door rips the hardware off and the door rebounds off the wall as it flies open. He takes the time to close it behind him, but his eyes are only for Haru, lying on his futon completely naked, spread out before him like some trashy spread in a gay men’s porno mag. He’s fucking beautiful. His skin is flushed and damp, his chest heaving as he gasps for breath. His little pink nipples are hardened to sharp points and flushed red. His lips are wet and swollen, and he’s biting them now, making obscene noises, his blue eyes nearly black with need and burning holes in Asami as he stands over Haru and takes in the sight of him. The boy’s cock quivers, red and dripping, between his thighs, and Haru’s hands are gripping the covers behind his head as though they’re shackled there, trying desperately to resist the need to touch himself AGAIN. He whimpers and babbles out a pleading apology. Asami strips off his jacket, vest and tie and toes off his shoes. The doctor will be here soon, and he doesn’t want to do very much to Haru before he’s sure it’s okay, but he’s way too enticing to resist entirely.  
So Asami falls to his knees beside the futon and leans down to kiss Haru gently on his trembling lips. The boy moans into his mouth.  
“It’s all right, Haru-kun,” he whispers into his boy’s ear after breaking the kiss. “I’m almost entirely certain this isn’t your fault.” His eyes scan the tiny apartment and take in the nearly empty box of cookies on the table. A few questions reveal their origin, and since he knows for a fact that Aki didn’t send them, he’s positive they’re the culprit. Damn it, he wishes Yamato would hurry!  
“Ah…Ahh…Asami-sama please!” cries Haru desperately.  
“Poor sweet boy,” whispers Asami, leaning close so that his breath stirs Haru’s hair and tickles the shell of his ear. He groans. “So needy. Oh Haru, you’re so pretty. As soon as I know it’s safe, I’m going to give you what you need. I’m going to fuck you so HARD, little boy. Spread you wide and shove my fingers into that tight, hungry little hole, open you fast and mean. It will burn, Haru. Ohh, make you so sore. I’ll hold you down and force my cock inside you while you scream. I will fuck you until you sob and cry and beg. I will make you come until you can’t anymore. Aki’s on his way, sweet boy. We’ll both take you and take you, lick and suck your pretty cock.”  
He pauses and glances down Haru’s body and he’s pretty sure he’s going to make the boy come again just from talking to him, and the very thought of it has his own cock rising to fill the front of his pants. He presses against it absently with the heel of his hand and mentally curses at the doctor, before he continues his filthy monologue into Haru’s ear.  
“Shall I spank you, Haru, when we’ve made you come enough to take the edge off? Put you over my lap and spank you so HARD because you’re such a dirty little boy, and dirty little boys need to be spanked, don’t they Haru-kun? I’ll spank your pretty little ass and make you hump my leg like a little slut until you come on my thigh, no matter how bad your bottom hurts or how you cry and beg for mercy. Is that what you want, baby boy? Shall I let you sit on Aki’s sweet cock and ride him while I whip you from behind with my belt? We’ll do ALL of it, Haru…over and over until you feel better, until you are yourself again. Can you come for me, little boy? Just like this, just with my voice in your ear? Hm? I’ll touch you soon, Haru, once the doctor says for certain that it’s all right, but give me this now, that’s my good boy…”  
A body-wracking shudder sweeps over Haru, and his cock jerks with painful intensity, forcing a guttural groan out of his throat. Come lands on his belly in a hot splat, and he gasps for air with Asami’s wicked words still burning in his ears. For a moment, he curls onto his side, as if to hide the shameful evidence from Asami’s sight, but he still shivers violently from the force of his climax.  
Asami’s fingers stroke gently over the knobby curve of his spine, but instead of soothing, it only serves to inflame his senses. With surprising speed and strength, he rolls up, clutching onto Asami’s shirt with desperate need. “Do it now, Asami-sama. Please,” he pleads. “It’s okay. Please, please. Do all of it. Just…just…now.”  
Asami’s murmured attempts to calm him only make him sob, and he shoves and twists, throwing all his body weight into the motion. His efforts catch Asami off-guard, but he twists with Haru, allowing his back to land on the futon. Quick as a snake, Haru climbs on top of Asami. His face nuzzles against Asami’s neck, and Haru inhales deeply to breathe Asami’s scent. He presses frantic kisses there, begging the entire time.   
“Please, oh please.”   
He doesn’t try to listen to Asami’s reassurances. He barely even registers them. He doesn’t want them anyway, and when Asami’s hands only stroke his face, his arms, touching softly, chastely, Haru sobs.   
He writhes against Asami’s leg, but it’s not enough. He needs what Asami promised. He needs it so bad or he’ll die. He’s completely certain of that. Why can’t Asami-sama understand?

“Please, Asami-sama…fuck me…ungh…” Haru licks at the hard shaft through the fabric. “I’ll be such a good boy. Your good boy. I will. I swear. Your slut. I’ll do anything….please…” he sobs “I…I need you…hard as you want…whatever you want…make me cry…anything…anything…oh…oh…Master…”  
His lashes clump together in wet spikes as he looks up through them to plead with his eyes as well.

Asami closes his eyes for a moment at the feel of Haru’s hot breath through the soft vicuna wool of his slacks. The boy’s heartrending pleas are hard to ignore, but he grits his teeth and captures Haru’s slender wrists at last. He flips them and pins the writhing body to the futon’s pad and just holds him there. Haru rolls his hips and sobs entreatingly, but Asami presses his weight against the hot little morsel in his arms and holds him still. The soft tap at the door does not come soon enough. He calls out for the doctor to enter. The tidy little man whose discretion and sangfroid Asami has come to value so much is setting his case down on Haru’s tiny dinette table when the door bursts open behind him and Akihito stumbles into the apartment, panting heavily as he tries to catch his breath and his frightened eyes take in the spectacle on the futon.  
It takes both of them to hold Haru down while Dr. Yamato examines him, checking his pulse, blood pressure, reflexes, temperature. He draws a little blood and does a quick drug test, the takes a sample of the cookies which he packs away in a small vial in his bag.  
“He’ll need fluids soon. He’s not quite dehydrated, but he’s getting there. I don’t like his pulse rate, but his blood oxygen level is good. His blood pressure is only a little elevated, as he’s quite healthy. He’s not exhibiting any signs of drug overdose or allergic reaction, so I’d say he’s not in any danger. The two of you are better equipped to give him what he needs than I am. I shall take the samples to the lab for analysis and you’ll have my report as soon as possible, Asami-san. Just makes sure he drinks, and eats something as soon as it’s possible for him to do so. The water is much more important than food. If he stops sweating or his skin grows cold to the touch, call me again. If that’s all?”  
“Thank you, Doctor,” says Asami, and the small, trim little man lets himself out. He turns his attention back to the naked, squirming, crying boy on the futon. Akihito is sitting on Haru’s feet while Asami holds his arms down. Haru looks up at Asami with tears swimming in his eyes.  
“Now?” he whimpers, misery evident in his voice. “Oh…oh Master…please? Now?”  
“Now,” growls Asami in assent, lust and pleasure flaring hotly in his guts as Haru calls him Master for the second time. The boy probably doesn’t know what he’s saying, but the title sounds so honest and so right on his lips. Asami thinks Haru means what he says, and the only reason he doesn’t guard his use of it is that he’s too far gone to realize that he’s saying it out loud. He looks up at Aki, who is staring at Haru in fascination, the pupils of his green-gold eyes blown large. He notices Asami’s gaze and looks up.  
“Fuck,” he whispers. “He’s so hot.”  
“Yes,” agrees Asami, letting go of one of Haru’s wrists to take off his shirt and open his pants. “Better strip, Aki-kun. I have a feeling this is going to get messy. Hm. And put on some music. I’d hate for the neighbors to call the police.”  
As Aki jumps up and turns on Haru’s little stereo, plugging in his own ipod as he knows it contains music capable of covering up at least some of the noise they’re probably going to be making, Asami snags his tie and lashes Haru’s wrists to the futon frame with enough slack that he can turn over.  
“Get on your stomach, you filthy little boy,” he snarls close to Haru’s ear, bending over to do so as he finishes undressing. Haru squirms over onto his belly, panting and chanting softly under his breath a litany of pleas and gratitude. “Don’t thank me yet. You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow.”  
Akihito, bless him, has thought to bring the lube, so a frantic search of the tiny flat isn’t necessary. He slicks two fingers and rams them without preamble into Haru’s tiny asshole, opening him abruptly and wrenching a shriek from the desperate boy. It’s only about half pain though, because in this mindset, Haru’s pain and pleasure receptors are tangled together. Asami finger fucks him roughly for about two minutes, during which time Haru comes AGAIN, and then he smears lube on his cock. His erection has, by now, become painful, so he’s not merciful when he lifts Haru’s hips, parts his cheeks, and thrusts his cock deep inside the poor boy’s grasping little hole. Haru howls and tries to shove his hips harder against Asami’s rude invasion.  
“Don’t hurt him,” worries Aki, going to his knees on the floor at the head of the futon and gently stroking Haru’s sweaty face, kissing his forehead and open, panting mouth. Asami laughs at the absurdity of THAT request as Haru mewls and growls and begs Asami to fuck him harder. Asami fucks him harder, and it’s astonishing how quickly Haru’s body softens to accept him. He braces himself on his hands and powers his erection into his boy’s hot little hole, reaming him out cruelly while Haru babbles that it’s perfect and he needs more and more and more. When he growls like a wild little beast and bites Aki’s lip hard enough to draw blood, Akihito’s tender concern evaporates. “I changed my mind,” he says darkly. “Hurt him.”  
Haru laps at the abused lip feverishly. The act has little contrition in it. He’s too far gone, and the coppery taste of the blood intensifies a tight, primal hunger that coils deep in belly.   
His arms are stretched taut above his head, and he pulls futilely at the restraints, desperate to impale himself harder and deeper on Asami’s thick, driving cock. He can only spread his thighs wider until they strain and quiver instead, inching his knees as far apart as possible while still keeping his ass in the air. It’s an unspoken invitation for Asami to take him, use him, fuck him, to split him wide open until he comes apart at the seams.  
The world whittles down to the slick channel of his flesh stretched to the limit, pounded ruthlessly by the unforgiving cock that tears and hurts even as it makes Haru wail with pleasure. In that moment, he’s nothing but sensation, nothing but a hungry little hole, greedy to be filled and punished with brutal attention.  
And then Akihito’s tongue licks into his mouth, and Haru sucks on it like it’s another cock, pulling at the root of it. Distantly, he can hear Akihito’s muffled groan, and then Haru comes in wave of pleasure and relief so intense his vision goes dark.  
His head clears after a moment, and he starts crying silently because he can already feel that it’s not enough, not yet, and he doesn’t understand, and the fog is rolling back in, and because Asami-sama is still inside him, still hard and making his hole burn and ache, even though he’s not moving now and smooth lips press against the nape of his neck, and Aki’s huge eyes flicker at him from inches away. And he aches, everywhere, and he just almost can’t bear how much he needs them.  
Somewhere down deep inside, he knows he should be apologizing. He should be flushed with mortification and praying that won’t despise him now that they’ve seen this shameful shameful side of him. But then the haze grows thicker, and his vision glazes, and the all-consuming want eats him up again.   
His throat is so dry, his voice so hoarse, but he writhes beneath Asami and begs. “Oh, please don’t…don’t stop…mess …mess me up…until…until…” Fat, salty tears drip into his mouth, and his lips tremble.

“We will, baby,” whispers Aki, kissing Haru tenderly. “As long as you need. We won’t leave you. Oh gods, you are so beautiful.”   
Asami moves again, but more carefully now, because Haru seems so fragile suddenly. He rocks inside the boy’s warm body, and gradually Haru stops crying and is a moaning, greedy mess again. He picks up the pace a bit, and then hauls Haru to his knees and keeps fucking him while Akihito kneels at the side of the futon and takes Haru’s cock in his mouth, sucking eagerly. Haru cries out in startlement and spills down Aki’s throat in seconds. Aki swallows and grins up at Haru, who looks humiliated.  
“You lasted longer than I did when this happened to me. I came in Asami’s mouth the second he got it on my dick,” he says softly, offering comfort. Haru looks like he’s not sure whether he believes Akihito or not, but he nods gratefully.   
“Now let’s see how you do the second time,” says Aki with a naughty glint in his eye, and bends his head back down. Haru cries out and tries to pull his hips back as Aki’s tongue laps at the over-sensitized head of his lover’s cock, but Asami is still there, solid and unmovable, anchored inside him.  
They mess him up. They both fuck the writhing, pleading, greedy boy twice, and Haru comes and comes, sobbing at the ache of it finally. He begs for mercy, but when they try to slow things down and give him a break, the need washes over him again, sucking him down. They use their fingers to fuck him when they need to recover, and take turns gently sucking Haru’s cock, as it becomes hideously tender after the first hour. After the second hour, Haru is coming dry and crying after each time, the ache in his poor overwrought body no longer overridden by lust or pleasure. Then he begs for more when the need crawls back. But it seems to be crawling back slower at last, and Asami fulfills another of his promises. He sits back on the futon…which he thinks may well have to be thrown away after this, because the pad is covered with bodily secretion and he’s distinctly heard the frame crack ominously at least twice…and throws Haru over his lap, where he proceeds to spank him.  
It only takes about a dozen sharp slaps before Haru is whimpering and moaning, rolling his hips greedily.  
“Do it,” says Asami. “Do as I told you, filthy boy. Rub yourself on my leg. I’m going to keep spanking you until you come, so you’d better work hard, or you’re not going to sit down for a week.”  
“Ohh, Asami-sama,” sobs Haru. Asami grins and spanks Haru harder. His hand flashes down over the rapidly reddening skin, loud slaps that make Haru moan wantonly.  
Aki holds Haru’s hands as he’s done in the past, keeping him in place.  
“Haru,” he whispers, “you have no idea how hot you are like this. I know it hurts you. I’m so sorry it does. But you’re amazing. You’re beautiful and I wish you could see yourself.”  
“N-no,” sobs Haru. “No I’m not!”  
Asami stops spanking for a moment.  
“Ito Haruki, are you calling Akihito a liar?”  
Haru groans.  
“No Asami-sama,” he says meekly.  
“Good,” says Asami composedly, going back to the spanking, “because he’s entirely right. You are exquisite, Haru. So lovely, so hot…if it didn’t cause you pain, I’d wish to have you like this every night.”  
It takes a little longer than last time, or the time before that, but soon Haru is stiffening on Asami’s lap and crying out weakly as he comes yet again.  
“Is it getting better, Haru?” whispers Aki. Haru nods weakly and tells them he can still feel it a little, but it’s bearable.  
“Do you think you can come one last time, Haru-kun?” asks Asami softly.  
“I don’t know,” says Haru tearfully, whimpering some more.  
“Well, you’re going to want to try.” Asami grins fiercely at Akihito. “Because I’m hard again.”  
Haru shivers, and his cock stirs in immediate response. When Asami bends his exhausted body double and pushes his knees to his chest, Haru rediscovers the ability to blush. His thighs are wet with the combined seed of his lovers where it’s dripped from his raw, twitching little hole. He’s an utter mess, and God, he begged and begged them to make him that way.   
Before he can submerge himself in that pool of mortification, Asami sheaths himself with one swift thrust, and Haru’s eyes roll back. A raspy moan rips from his throat.  
“Unhhh…” His face contorts as the arousal spreads like fire again. It hurts with a breathtaking fierceness. His flesh is so raw, so sensitive, and his ass feels like it’s being thoroughly tenderized as Asami pounds him into the soiled futon. And still he moans and takes it with wanton lust because it’s exactly what he needs, only…only…  
“Aki…” He fumbles blindly with his hand. “Oh, please kiss me…”  
Akihito’s face appears over his, upside down, and he half sobs, half laughs into Akihito’s mouth, and their teeth click and their lips mash, and their tongues writhe and tangle. And then Akihito lifts his head, and strains forward to reach Asami. Haru moans helplessly to see them kissing above him. The sound draws Asami’s gaze, and he lifts Haru’s legs higher, over his shoulders, and powers into him like he wants to break him.   
Maybe he will break, Haru thinks unsteadily, as staccato grunts are forced from his mouth. Into a million little pieces. That’s what it feels like—like he’s flying apart or burning up in that molten gaze. A particularly brutal thrust makes him cry out hoarsely, but it’s swallowed up instantly when Asami’s mouth clamps on his. The kiss goes on forever, sucking up his air, and everything goes bright and wobbly, and he comes for the final time, his body giving way in utter surrender and exhaustion. 

Asami fucks Haru through his orgasm, allowing himself to be pulled along with the boy by the sensations of the fluttering spasms of Haru’s snug little hole, that is even tighter than ever due to being raw and swollen inside from overuse.   
Haru collapses like he’s been shot after the shudders pass, whimpering in pain when Asami’s cock withdraws from his body. He sniffles for a minute, and then starts to cry. Asami’s not completely sure whether they are tears of relief, pain, or something else. He brushes Haru’s bangs out of his eyes and places a soft kiss on his forehead.  
“Better now, Haru-kun?”  
Haru nods, sniffling, as shivering begins to set in. Asami rather guiltily recalls Dr. Yamato’s admonition to get fluids into Haru soon.  
“Akihito,” he says, “Let’s take care of our boy now, shall we? Will you go and see if he has a change of sheets for this futon?” Aki nods and trots out of the room as Asami goes to the kitchenette and finds a bottle of water and a hand towel, which he wets down. Returning to the wrecked futon, he finds Haru curled up into a little ball and refusing to uncurl and look at them.  
“Haru,” Asami says gently.  
“Yes, Asami-sama,” is Haru’s sniffled reply.  
“I need you to sit up now and drink this water.”  
“I’m not thirsty,” Haru whispers. It’s a lie. He feels completely parched, but he can’t bear to sit up and look at them. His emotions are all over the place, and the return of his higher thought processes bring massive insecurities. He can’t remember all that he’s said and done over the course of the past few hours, but he can remember a lot, and it makes him curl up tighter.  
What if it’s too much? Now that they’ve seen him like this, maybe they’ll realize that he’s not what they want after all. He knows all too well the risks of needing someone so much, of showing it.  
“Haru.” Akihito puts the clean set of sheets down on the floor and sits next to Haru, tentatively touching his shoulder. “I think I know how you’re feeling. When it happened to me…well, I thought Asami and FeiFei would think I was disgusting or wrong or something like that. But, Haru, they didn’t. They said that I was beautiful and sexy, and oh, Haru, you are too. You have to believe me. Won’t you please sit up for just a minute and have a little water?”  
Akihito’s kindness makes his chest clench, and even though he doesn’t want to and he can’t quite believe what Aki says about him, he makes himself uncurl. The last thing he wants to seem is ungrateful, especially after he’s put them to so much trouble, so he dutifully takes the cup and sips the water. It’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, and the liquid slides down his throat, deliciously cool. He ends up drinking the whole glass in one go, and Akihito takes it from again.  
The shock of it hitting his still rather feverish system makes him break out in shivers, and Asami wraps a thin blanket around him and begins to clean the track of Haru’s tears from his cheeks with the damp hand towel.   
“Thank you,” Haru whispers, his eyes cast down. “I-I’m so sorry for causing so much fuss. I think I’m really okay now, so…it’s okay if you need to go back to…to work or wherever…I’ll be fine.”  
Akihito snorts, and Asami simply picks him up and settles him in his lap. “Foolish boy. Do you really think we’d leave you now? I have half a mind to turn you over my knee again and spank some sense into you through that raw little ass of yours.”  
He tips Haru’s chin up with thumb and forefinger and searches his face until his expression softens a little, and he sighs. “You have a very bad habit of worrying about things you shouldn’t, sweet boy. One way or another, we’ll have to break you of it.”  
Haru bites his bottom lip a moment, a guilty kind of remorse filling his eyes. “I’m s—“  
“If you say you’re sorry again, I will spank you.” Asami’s eyes narrow. “This time with my belt. Akihito, where is it?”  
“Right here,” Akihito pipes up helpfully.   
“You’re…you’re not upset at all,” Haru asks softly.  
“At you? Of course not. This wasn’t your fault, Haru. You can’t possibly blame yourself.”  
But I can, Haru thinks. Because the way I acted, those things were all inside of me somewhere, weren’t they?  
As if he can read what Haru’s thinking, Asami’s eyes narrow again and his mouth plunders Haru’s savagely until Haru’s gasping underneath the onslaught and fighting for breath. When Asami finally lets him breathe, he fixes Haru with a stern gaze.   
“I’m upset that you were put in a potentially health-threatening situation, forced into acting in ways that perhaps you wouldn’t otherwise, but mark this Haruki, nothing happened here that wasn’t gorgeous and arousing and, yes, very much wanted.” Asami laughs darkly. “It was more than my pleasure to see to your needs, to witness your unbridled desire and the depths of your passions. And though it may mortify you to hear it, every slip of your tongue that gave me a glimpse of what the future might hold filled me with perverse pleasure. So take Akihito’s words to heart, and…” Asami’s dark chuckle sends a electric frisson down his spine. “Now that I know just how well you can beg when you really want something, don’t think I’ll let you off easy in the future.”  
“Oh…” Haru buries his hot face against Asami’s chest, but the hard knot of anxiety in his own loosens. Maybe everything really will be all right.

It’s really only because Asami has been where Haru is right now that keeps him from resorting to the threatened spanking. He’s exhausted. There is a fine tremble in the muscles of his legs, back and belly and he feels like he could sleep for 24 hours straight. Whatever drug Haru was given was more potent than those ingested by himself or Akihito. Either that or he just ate a LOT of cookies. Asami and Akihito have worn themselves quite thin in working it out of his system.  
Ah, but he remembers how it had been for him. Once the aphrodisiac was burned out of his system and his senses returned to him, he’d been (albeit briefly) mortified at the way he’d acted. So out of control. So needy. He’s used Akihito and Feilong quite ruthlessly, with little concern for their feelings or pleasure. He’d been ashamed. How much worse is it for poor Haru, who questions his self-worth all of the time anyway? So he sets the exhaustion aside and he patiently explains things to Haru. And explains them again. There is no lie in the words he and Akihito give Haru. When he replays the events of the last several hours in his mind, in spite of the fact that he’s quite spent, his cock tries to twitch with interest. Haru without his inhibitions had been breathtaking. So wild, so passionate. Asami had loved every desperate plea out of that sweet mouth. He won’t repeat it to either of his boys, but he takes the word “Master” and tucks it away in his chest in a place he never shows anyone, and he vows to keep it safe, until Haru is ready to bring it back out on his own, and without the influence of drugs.   
They reassure and argue logic and he threatens further spankings, and Haru at last seems convinced. They clean him up with gentle hands, just enough to be put into lounge pants and his bathrobe. Asami holds the boy in his lap as Haru blinks owlishly at Aki while Aki sets the room to rights as best he can. They practically have to carry Haru to the limo, which isn’t easy when both of them care barely walk themselves. Asami gives up and calls for Suoh, who lifts Haru into his arms as though he were completely weightless. The bear of a man sets Haru gently into Asami’s arms once they reach the limo. Asami cradles the exhausted boy close while Aki pets his hair and murmurs silly things in his ear. They somehow manage to drag themselves up to the penthouse. Aki would have them collapse straight into the huge bed, but Asami steers them firmly to the huge shower stall in his bathroom with its four shower heads with varying settings. He orchestrates the removal of what clothing they’re wearing and turns the shower on very hot. They are filthy, covered with dried sweat and spit and come and a little bit of blood here and there due to fingernails or teeth being applied a bit too hard in the heat of the moment. Aki and Haru whine about it until he cuts them off with a calculated, furious glare.  
“You are NOT getting into my bed covered in body fluids and smut. Now you can cooperate and we’ll all be clean in a few minutes and can sleep for two days, or you can keep complaining and I will go and fetch a quirt from the room and I promise you I can make you howl with little effort on my part, even if my arms do feel like noodles. Obey me, or I’ll whip you both now and again in the morning when I’m not tired anymore and you will NOT enjoy it.”   
He turns his back to them and tips his head under the hot, massaging spray and lets it hammer at sore muscles, sighing with relief. Akihito knows what a quirt is, with its short braided handle and flexible body and its 18-inch long twin rawhide tails…a device built for using its own momentum to build up force and give it a powerful bite. He hears Aki whispering to Haru what this means, and then both boys meekly wash each other’s slender, muscled bodies as quickly as they can. Haru whimpers when the hot water touches his bottom and legs, and cries a little when Aki gently washes his exhausted cock and well-used, swollen little hole. Asami holds him gently but inescapably under the spray while Akihito accomplishes this, shushing him softly and promising him it won’t hurt so for very long at all. He doesn’t mention that the pained little cries and soft crying revive his interest a little. Tomorrow will be soon enough for that.  
His lips quirk in a tiny smile as they all slowly sink into exhausted slumber as he thinks of how Haru will whimper and plead and cry when he turns him over on his belly in the morning and carefully slicks his poor, abused, red hole and eases inside, taking him gently but inexorably. Oh, he’ll be so sore, and probably embarrassed again about the events of this day. Having to endure another fucking, however gentle, will prove that Asami still wants him…and punish him just a little for worrying way too much. Haru will whimper and beg Asami not to do it, but in the end he’ll rouse to it too, in spite of himself, and maybe…just maybe, if he is still sleepy enough or if it reminds him enough of the day before, or if there is some tiny trace of the drug in his system that lowers his inhibitions…maybe once again he’ll whisper, in the throes of his pain and pleasure….  
“Master.”


	10. Truancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having done his best to explain ageplay to Haru, and what it means to him, Akihito convinces Haru to give his inner child a whirl. The scenario here was inspired by posts on itoharuki.tumblr.com between Aki and Haru about a date they go on while Asami is out of town. Now it is Haru's turn to meet Uncle Ryu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE that this chapter contains an ageplay scene among consenting adults. It depicts a semi-consensual spanking scene and semi-consensual sex between an adult and two minors. We, the authors, do not and never will condone sexual relationships such as that pretended herein. It would be, quite simply, abuse. In this case, this is entirely understood to be a pretend scene, and entirely about fun and sex between people who know ahead of time what they're getting into. if, however, you are triggered by situations of abuse, use caution in reading this chapter.

“Aha!”

Haru pulls out the box that had been hiding in the back corner of his small closet, underneath another box that holds his summer clothes. Inside, below letters and ticket stubs and other memorabilia are his old uniforms. They’re folded neatly. The navy blazers with the school crest, the dark gray slacks, and the white dress shirts still look new.  

He smiles and runs a hand over the fabric, letting his memories take over for a moment. Putting this on again will feel very strange. He hopes what he and Aki have planned will go well.  He’s excited to try, especially after they had talked it over again last night.

He just hopes he doesn’t mess it up somehow. He’s a bit nervous he won’t know how to act, or that he’ll say the wrong thing, or that he’ll somehow spoil it for Asami-sama and Aki, especially because he knows how much they both like it. It’ll be different from playing at being harem boys, he’s pretty sure of that. Akihito always got such a look on his face, when he spoke about it—excited and intense, but kind of serious too, like it’s important…something he needs. 

But Akihito is so eager, that Haru can’t help but be intrigued. He wonders how Asami will react to their surprise when he returns from his trip. 

Seeing Aki wearing his old school uniform will be fun in any case.  

Haru grins and then laughs out loud, thinking about some of the stories Akihito had told him about his high school years.  It doesn’t really seem like Aki has changed all that much. Getting into scrapes seems to be a regular part of his life. 

“Me on the other hand…” Haru says ruefully. He picks up the top blazer and shakes it out, holding it up to his chest.  Akihito always teases him about being such an angel, which he  wasn’t .

But adults and teachers had always seemed to approve of him, and his parents were pretty indulgent. He didn’t exactly have any reason to rebel. And, okay, he was on the Student Council, but that doesn’t mean he was a goody goody. Haru frowns.  Does it?

“I can be bad,” Haru tells himself firmly.

Akihito snorts behind him, and Haru whirls around, his cheeks burning.

Akihito is momentarily more interested in the sight of Haru’s sweetly rounded ass sticking out of the closet than he is in the muffled exclamation of success, but when he emerges, tousled and triumphant, stroking the soft flannel of the slacks, his interest switches. This is going to be HELLA fun. Haru has kind of a faraway look on his face. When he insists he can be bad, Aki can’t hold back a snort.

“What you know about being bad wouldn’t fill a teacup,” he says loftily. Haru looks a little wounded, so Aki falls to his knees beside him taking one of the uniforms and grinning as he pets the fabric. He leans in and kisses Haru’s subtly pouting mouth. “Hey. Your niceness and how much you want to make people happy is part of why we love you. I, on the other hand, am an expert in being bad! C’mon, let’s get back to the penthouse. Asami’ll be home in a few hours.”

They troop down to the limo, arms full of old school clothes, and Aki outlines the scenario on the ride back across town.

“So okay. Here’s the deal. We cut school to ride our bikes out to the countryside…that was when what we really did was rent motorcycles and go riding….see, you keep the story SORT of like what really happened. Then remember that old guy who yelled at us to move along…when we stopped to look at those cute baby goats? Because the bikes were scaring his goats? THAT was when we got caught trespassing. See?”

Haru nods thoughtfully.

“Then…the lady at the minshuku who called to verify your credit card…she was…calling our school to report us?”

“Hm. Maybe you CAN be bad after all,” says Aki, nudging Haru with his elbow. Haru nudges back, so Akihito shoves him a little. By the time they reach Asami’s condo, they are full-on wrestling in the back of the car. Suoh has to clear his throat several times to get them to stop. Snickering and blushing, they hurry to the elevator and type in the code for the penthouse.

“So when you put on the uniform…I get that this is weird for you, Haru…and….well….thanks for trying it. If it doesn’t work for you, it’s really okay. But it’s like….the clothes you’re wearing are a costume, right?”

“Sure,” says Haru, stripping his t-shirt off and derailing Akihito’s train of thought for a while as he reaches for the crisp white button-down shirt. “You get into character when you put them on.”

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” asks Aki shrewdly. Haru sticks out his tongue. “Because you’re doing pretty good so far.”

“I’m sure,” says Haru. “But I’m also sure you’re still wearing the wrong clothes!”

Akihito feels himself regressing mentally as he changes into the uniform, so typical of Japanese school children and so very much like the one he had once worn himself. He recalls dressing with annoyance in the ugly clothes every morning, hating them, bitching about how gross they were. He grins as he purposefully buttons the shirt wrong and leaves the tie way too loose. His head is years in the past by the time he’s finished. He narrows his eyes at his….cousin? Yeah, cousin works.

“Dude….really? Could you BE more of a goody-goody?” he sneers. Damn, Haru’s so fuckin’ perfect all the time, with his shirt all buttoned up and his tie just so….well, they’re not gonna save him this time! He reaches out and tugs the neat little tie until it isn’t quite so perfect. Haru slaps at his hands and he slaps back.

“STOP it,” protests the other boy. Aki rolls his eyes.

“Haru…you dumbass…neat clothes aren’t going to save your ass. You keep acting like I’m making shit up but I’m NOT. Uncle Ryu said your mom told him he can punish you as he sees fit if it’s necessary. Just because nobody’s ever done that before isn’t gonna stop him. We’re fucked, get used to it.”

Haru’s eyes widen as he thinks about that scenario and what it would be like if it  were real. Akihito is right on the mark. He was never punished physically growing up, not by his parents or teachers. But if there’d been an ‘Uncle Ryu’ around while he was in high school and put in charge of his discipline, Haru might’ve been tempted to get in a  lot more trouble.  Except…he imagines Asami-sama’s intimidating aura when he’s doling out punishment and his stomach flips.  Then again, maybe not.

“How mad do you think he’ll be?” His voice sounds worried, and it’s not completely faked. Even if the  situation is pretend, he knows with absolute certainty that the outcome of all this will be a  very  sore bottom for each of them. The familiar mix of dread and anticipation makes his insides flutter. “What do you think he’s gonna do?”

Aki grins. He’s not looking forward to the spanking he knows he’s got coming. It’s going to be pretty bad, and he’s going to cry, and he hates that, but….

But his “cousin” is awfully hot, and Aki sees the way Haru looks at Uncle Ryu and he feels a tiny twinge of guilt that thinking about his hot, sexy strong uncle pulling down Haru’s pants and punishing him…ohh, it makes Aki’s dick hard. So does thinking about what usually comes after the spankings!

“He’s gonna whip us good,” he says solemnly. “Sometimes he uses his belt, sometimes a switch, sometimes a hairbrush…or this really awful bath brush….he only uses his hand when you’ve only been a little bit bad, and this…this was REALLY bad. You don’t get to have your pants or underwear on either. He only spanks bare ass. He says your pants didn’t do anything wrong. And he doesn’t stop until you’re bawling and you’re really, really sorry.” He ducks his head and looks at his twisted fingers, blushing, because he’s getting turned on thinking about it, even though it’s gonna SUCK and he really HATES the idea of Haru seeing him crying because he kinda likes how his new cousin thinks he’s a badass. Except when Uncle Ryu punishes him, he’s just a really sorry little boy. 

Haru listens to this raptly, and when Aki’s done talking, it’s rather easy to fall in his own role when he realizes the effect Akihito’s little speech is having on him. He feels just like the naughty young man he’s supposed to be as he turns away to hide his mortification  and the growing bulge in the front of his school trousers. 

“But I’ve never done anything like this before! He won’t really do all that to  me .” Haru sounds as if he’s desperately trying to convince himself. “ You might deserve it. You’re always getting into trouble!”

“Yeah? Well, Mr. Goody Two Shoes, you just go right ahead and hold on to that hope all you want. Right up til your cute little ass is bare and he spanks it for the first time,” he snaps irritably. Honestly, Haru’s HOPELESSLY naïve. “I don’t remember you arguing very hard when I said we oughta cut school and go on an adventure! And YOU were the one who wanted to pet the baby goats!” He reaches over and gives Haru a shove as he finishes. Haru, who may be a bit of a goody-goody, is still not one to sit calmly by and be bullied, so he shoves back. Aki exclaims hotly and pushes harder, and then they’re rolling on the thick, plush rug, writhing and wrestling. Haru bites him neatly on the side of his neck as he pins the younger boy to the floor, glaring up at him, red-faced and panting. Aki doesn’t know what comes over him. Haru is so damn cute, and his warm body pressed against Aki’s feels so damn good, and then he’s kissing that panting mouth. Haru moans softly and then Aki’s not pinning him anymore, he’s touching him all over, his hands racing, yanking Haru’s shirt out of his pants to feel the smooth heat of his skin. Oh gods, what is he doing?

He pulls back with a muttered oath, blushing hotly and hiding his embarrassment behind his shaggy bangs.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t…Sorry,” he mutters, sitting up. Haru scrambles to do the same, but to Aki’s relief he doesn’t look mad.

“It’s all right,” says his really cute cousin shyly. “I…I liked it.”

“Yeah?” says Aki hopefully, lifting his eyes to meet earnest blue ones. “I’m….me too. But we better not. He’ll be home soon and he’d be even madder if we….if we were….without him. C’mon! Let’s go fix him supper. If we make him a nice meal, maybe he won’t be quite as mad!” He leaps to his feet and tugs Haru with him. They race to the kitchen and start to rummage through the pantry for inspiration. The puppy joins in enthusiastically, gleefully barking and helpfully tugging discarded packages out of their way when they drop anything. 

Their blazers are draped over a chair, their sleeves unbuttoned and rolled to their elbows when they finally put the finishing touches on dinner and leave it to simmer on the back burner. They’ve been having so much fun, and for Haru it’s like being dropped right back into that time of life, when he’d hang around with his best friends after school. 

Neither one of them is so far removed from that time that it’s any stretch to behave like young, heedless kids. In fact, it’s all too easy, and with the joking around, and frequent breaks to stop and scuffle together, their tidying skills definitely suffer for it. The kitchen looks much worse for the wear: dirty pots and spoons, spilled liquids, hard rice kernels littered across the counter.

When Haru finally has a chance to take it all in, he feels on almost unstoppable urge to scurry to clean it up. The other times Haru has helped Akihito with dinner, he’d been sure to keep it pristine as they went along, and it goes against his grain to leave such a mess anyway. Then Akihito tackles him from behind, and Haru forgets all about the dirty dishes as he twists and turns, trying to break out of Akihito’s hold.

The stumble past the door of the kitchen laughing breathlessly, their heads under each other’s arms, until Haru slams into something solid, and they collapse into a heap of tangled limbs on the floor.

“Uncle Ryu!” Akihito cries, and Haru’s head whips up.

His tie is wrapped around the lower part of his face, and he shakes it off as his gaze travels up and up to take in Asami’s coolly assessing gaze.

Haru’s heart gives an extra hard thump.

*********

Getting a text message from a number he recognizes as one of Akihito’s burner phones he carries when on assignment which reports his nephews’ truancy and near-arrest for trespassing would be vastly confusing to some people. Asami Ryuichi, however, has been keeping up with the wildly improbable roller coaster that is his pet’s delightful brain for a long time now. So Aki decided it’s time for Haru to meet their strict, loving and enormously perverted Uncle.

It’s a good thing Akihito HAS thought to send him the text message. He’s pretty sure the sight of two young men dressed in what he’s almost certain are  actual  schoolboy uniforms would have been a clue, but isn’t sure he could have prevented the laugh that tries to bubble up from his chest. Uncle Ryu, however, is NOT amused. He has been called out of work to deal with transgressions by his errant nephews that make bringing home stray puppies (the small menace in question being currently delightedly ensconced inside a bag of what were once shrimp chips but are apparently now puppy food, his curly white, fluffy tail protruding from his prize and waving madly with joy) look like the very model of perfect behavior (Akihito, thinks the part of him that remains Asami, is certainly adopting the “throw him into the deep end of the pool to teach him to swim” approach with poor Haruki).

“I’m sorry,” he says coolly, taking in the adorable sight of his dishevelled nephews on the floor at his feet and the appalling state of his kitchen, “I must have the wrong house. You see, MY home contains two boys who have committed such egregious sins while I’ve been away on business that when I arrive at the correct locale, they will be waiting for me, impeccably dressed in a pristine condominium acting properly contrite. I feel sorry for the man who has to deal with THESE little delinquents!”

Aki and Haru scramble to their feet with comical expressions of terror combined with excitement and hopeful contrition.

“We made dinner, Uncle Ryu!” cries Aki a little desperately, with a flap of his hand towards the stove. “We just...we were just...starting to clean up!”

Haru’s head nods madly and he pushes the bag of shrimp chips away from Gomi with his foot, standing on it while the puppy dances indignantly and whines at the loss of his treat.

“Yes we did! It’s very good. Are you hungry?” he ventures hopefully.

“I feel certain I will be once I’ve finished dealing with you. Clean up this mess at once and then go to my room,” says their Uncle softly. He turns and leaves the kitchen, certain of being obeyed, and relieved that they cannot see the big, salacious grin that blooms across his handsome face. 

"I  knew we should've cleaned up before," Haru whispers, giving Akihito an angry little jab with his elbow. "But  you kept messing around."

"Ow!" Akihito shoves back and smiles mockingly. "Ooh, you finally get it, huh? Your butt is about to get  blistered ."

"It is not!" Haru hisses. "Uncle Ryu won't--"

"Do I hear sounds of cleaning?" Uncle Ryu's deep voice interrupts, holding the absolute promise of retribution, and both boys scramble to wipe and wash and get the kitchen sparkling in record time.

Haru has almost forgotten that it isn't for real because his feet drag as they make their way to the bedroom where they'll have to account for their misdeeds. Akihito's face looks a little white and before they go inside, he grips Haru's arm for a moment and casts him a fleeting look of pure panic, though it's laced with the lurking thrill of excitement. Haru's stomach churns in response.

How real will Asami-sama-- Uncle Ryu \--make this? Surely, he won't punish them as badly as if they did it for real.

Would he?

A pounding thrum takes up in Haru's chest, and he can actually feel the pulse at the base of his throat flutter madly when they enter the room and see Uncle Ryu waiting for them.

Aki swallows hard past the lump in his throat at the stern expression on Uncle Ryu’s face. He fumbles blindly for Haru’s hand, seeking courage or reassurance or both. Haru grips his hand tightly enough to hurt, but Aki doesn’t care. Uncle Ryu reclines casually on his huge bed, his eyes pinned implacably to their guilty faces. His face is expressionless, and Aki feels a terrible qualm. What if this time he’s gone too far? What if he’s caused such trouble this time that Uncle Ryu won’t want him around anymore? What if he’s been too naughty one too many time? If dragging poor, innocent Haru into this mess is the thing Uncle Ryu decides is unforgivable?

Tears well up in his eyes and he whimpers.

“I...I….I’m so sorry,” he wails. “It’s all my fault, don’t be mad at Haru! Don’t send me away! I’ll be good, I promise!”

Uncle Ryu’s stern expression softens and he pats the bed on either side of where he’s sitting.

“Come here, both of you,” he says softly, and his eyes aren’t cold or angry anymore. With a soft little needy sound, Aki runs to the bed, dragging Haru with him, and hurls himself into Uncle Ryu’s arms. Haru follows, a little more hesitantly, but he’s not allowed to hang back and is hauled up against their gorgeous uncle’s other side. He hugs them tight and places a kiss on first Aki and then Haru’s head. “I’m not going to send you away, silly boy. No matter how naughty you are, you belong to me now, and I won’t let go. Do you hear me? No matter what, Aki. You are my boys, and I will take care of you and love you and yes, I will punish you when you do bad things, but I will not stop caring for you.”

“I’m sorry we were bad,” whispers Aki, feeling much better, but no less nervous. Haru looks vastly relieved.

“Very sorry,” he agrees earnestly.

“I’m glad you’re sorry,” says Uncle Ryu. “Skipping school, even if the weather is perfect and school is boring and you have new bikes is not okay. Trespassing is against the law, and you’re lucky the farmer didn’t press charges.”

“We won’t do it again,” promises Aki.

“Never,” swears Haru fervently.

“I’m glad to hear it,” says Uncle Ryu. “But that doesn’t get you off the hook. What do you think has to happen now?” His voice is soft and kind, but there is nothing of compromise in it. Aki shivers and looks over at Haru, whose eyes are very big.

“You gotta punish us,” whispers Aki sorrowfully.

Haru's chest still twinges a little after Uncle Ryu's speech to Aki. It had made him feel oddly vulnerable in ways he doesn't even want to examine now, and the upsurge of unexpected emotions has thrown him off balance.

He's anxious and fluttery inside anyway, the way he's always been whenever he's been on the receiving end of someone's disapproval. It doesn't seem to matter that it's pretend. He feels a deep need to earn Uncle Ryu's forgiveness regardless.

But it's fighting with that niggling sense of vulnerability, and Haru feels awkward and stupid all of a sudden, worried that he won't be able to fit in properly to the scene that seems to come so naturally to both of them.

He can sense himself coil up inside, getting ready to brazen through it with his own brand of bravado that always seems to come out--very rarely--but at the worst times. Time feels like it slows down, and instead of the contrite apologies and humble offer of submission to whatever Uncle Ryu suggests, Haru watches himself as if from a distance when instead he spits out flippantly, "No allowance this week? You could ground Aki from playing video games. That would really hurt."

He forgets that he's still holding Akihito's hand and doesn't realize that his fingers clutch Aki's in a death grip. His smirk belies the tight hold, and he gets a flare of satisfaction when Aki's shocked gaze meets his.

Asami considers Haruki’s response for a minute before proceeding. Haruki hasn’t a malicious bone in his body, so he has to wonder if this is the persona of the boy he’s projecting, wanting to be bad in ways he never was when he was actually this age, or whether there’s another reason. The latter, he thinks, because there is a wide and frightened shine to Haru’s eyes that belies his flippant words. Aki looks startled and a little hurt, and that won’t do. If there’s one thing he’s dead certain won’t change no matter what part the boy is playing, it is that his submission to Asami will never desert him. He  thinks Haruki is nervous and doesn’t know how to act, and that he’s just trying to brazen it out. Just because it comes naturally to Akihito, to become the young teenaged Aki, and even came easily to Feilong, doesn’t mean it is so easy for Haru. Akihito and Feilong’s childhoods both have holes in them that Uncle Ryu fills. For Akihito it is the discipline he always craved but never got when he was a rebellious little thug, whereas for Feilong it had been more a matter of not having had much of a childhood at all. At twenty, when Asami had met him for the first time, he had already been an accomplished assassin, a horrifying fact when he stops to think about it.

“Haru,” he says seriously, tipping the boy’s chin up with the tips of his fingers and leaning close so he can whisper very softly into his ear, “Haruki...stop. Everything is going to be fine. YOU are fine. Stop worrying about it. There’s not a script, and I’m good at improvising. Imagine if you’d become mine when you were just coming into your sexuality, if I’d had you to teach and train and punish for my very own at fifteen...or sixteen. Not that I would have, mind you...but to be taught everything, Haru, by me...do you remember yourself then? You knew you were gay then. If it would have been possible for me to take you and mold you….to spank you...oh, so hard….when you were naughty, and to teach you to please me and to find your own pleasure. Your cock is hard, sweet boy. That’s what this is. You’re my beautiful little boy, and you’ve been so bad, and I’m going to spank you for it, and then….oh Haru, then you get to lose your virginity all over again.” 

He imagines Akihito can probably hear a little of what he’s saying, but doesn’t think it’ll spoil this for him, not if it works and helps Haruki over this rough patch. 

A hot, prickly flush spreads down Haru's body. He's grateful for the words, but he's already beating himself up that he's made Asami-sama break character to reassure him. It isn't even like he's afraid of what will happen. He  wants it, especially after the pretty, wicked picture Asami has whispered in his ear.

But he  has messed up already, no matter what Asami-sama says, and that makes tears prick at his eyeballs. And  that would be the worst, if he started crying and ruined  everything . Except--Haru grabs onto the thought and holds tight--he can work with that. Akihito has already cried real tears too, and he's not sure exactly where that comes from for Aki, but it’s obvious that it's genuine emotion.

So is his.

"I--I'm sorry, Uncle Ryu," he says, taking a shaky breath that makes his chest hitch a little. "I didn't mean to be rude. Honest. I...I just...I've never...gotten in trouble like this before. And...and..." He raises his tear-filled eyes and holds them wide so they don't spill over. "I'm scared."

Uncle Ryu hides his grin in Haru’s hair. So cute. He hugs the warm, slender body close again, and the shiver that rocks Haru doesn’t feel at all feigned.

“It’s all right to be scared. I know this is new for you, and that your parents never punished you physically...or possibly at all. I won’t lie to you. You boys have been very bad indeed, and you’ve earned rather a severe punishment for it. I’m sorry, little boy, but your first spanking is going to be rather a bad one. It’s going to hurt, a lot. You’re going to cry. You may think you can’t bear it, but I promise that you can. I also promise it won’t  harm  you.” He shifts, urges them both up into sitting positions and frowns seriously at them. “Now, you’ve made bad choices together, so I’m going to punish you together. You’re both going to get a pillow and put it in the middle of the bed. Then you’re going to take your socks and your pants and underwear off and you’re going to lie down over the pillows on your bellies.”

He slides off the bed and stands, hands on his hips, waiting and watching, They stare up at him, their mouths open, like deer in headlights’ glare. He looks at his watch and raises one eyebrow.

“And I’d advise you to hurry,” he adds mildly, “because this can always get a lot worse.”

Aki gasps and gets up on his knees, tugging a pillow with him and plopping it down in the middle of the soft expanse of grey comforter. His hands go to his waistband and he looks at Haru, who hasn’t moved.

“Hurry UP, Haru,” he hisses. “If he hasta make you, it’s gonna be really bad!”

“He’s quite right,” agrees Uncle Ryu coolly.

That galvanizes Haru into quickly grabbing another pillow and placing it next to Akihito's. As he follows Uncle Ryu's instructions, he tries not to think about what they're going to look like with the pillows tucked beneath their hips. Their bare bottoms will be propped up in the air, not covered at all by the back of their white dress shirts and perfectly vulnerable to the coming punishment.

It's terribly embarrassing, but it also makes his cock tent the front of his shirt in a really obvious way. Haru bends over hurriedly and settles himself over the small hump of the pillow.

If this had happened when he really was fifteen like Asami-sama had said, he thinks might just have  died from mortification...or maybe from spontaneous orgasm. Haru squirms on the soft pillow a little as Akihito lies down next to him. For sure, he would have come all over the place the instant his cock even touched the pillow, and that would have absolutely been the  most embarrassing thing in the world. He can just imagine Uncle Ryu's knowing eyes watching, seeing how naughty he is to be so affected by the promised discipline, and then Uncle Ryu would whisper dirty things...

Haru gasps softly into the sheets.

As it is, there's not much difference between fifteen year old Haru and twenty-two year old Haru. He's less terrified than he would have been then maybe, but there's still plenty of apprehension because he knows that it's going to hurt  so much, and there's not a single thing he can do to stop it. Of course, that's just why his cock is jammed between the pillow and his belly, already hard and aching.

He turns to look at Aki, who looks back at him with wide, scared eyes. If his wild cousin is so worried, then what's coming has  gotta be bad.

Aki whimpers a little as he settles over the pillow, too embarrassed to even look at Haru until he’s lying on the damning evidence of his arousal. What kind of a freak gets horny when they’re about to be punished anyway? When it’s safe, he dares a nervous glance. Haru looks terrified, and he feels a pang of guilt, both for getting him into this and for the fact that he’s probably making things worse for his new cousin. But he’s never done anything quite this spectacular. Getting caught smoking was the worst, and that had hurt a lot. He’s not sure how much worse this actually is, so he’s nervous and scared, and Haru’s taking his cues from that. He wishes he could say something reassuring, but his tongue remains glued to the roof of his mouth. He reaches over hesitantly and holds his hand out, fingers moving in a grasping, come here gesture at Haru, who grips his hand once again with a tiny ghost of a grateful smile.

“I’m sorry, Haru,” he whispers. “It was a dumb idea.”

“It definitely wasn’t one of your brighter ones,” agrees Uncle Ryu, taking a few moments to just enjoy the picture spread out before him on his bed. The tails of his nephews’ white school shirts just reach the swell of their upturned backsides. Their pale asses are sweetly rounded and quiver ever so slightly with anticipation. Both boys squirm atop the erections they each imagine they’ve managed to conceal. He strolls to the dresser and picks up the tool he’s chosen for their lesson. It’s a paddle, one he’s recently acquired. It’s just a hair less than half an inch thick, made of polished red maple. The handle is six inches long and fits his hand perfectly, wrapped with soft leather. The business end of the paddle is an oval, just exactly the right size for covering nearly the entirety of a naughty boy’s bottom, and has eight holes drilled in its surface. It is smooth as satin and feels cool when he runs his hand over the surface. It’s going to sting worse than the hairbrush, but without the same heft, so it won’t bruise as easily. He slides onto the bed between the two culprits, relishing the way they tense up.

“I don’t expect you to be perfect, but you’d better expect the consequences of your actions to be severe if you’re going to play hooky. I’m going to paddle you, and it’s going to hurt, and I’m not going to stop until I think you’ve been properly punished. Haru, I know your mama and papa have never believed in corporal punishment, but I made it clear that while you’re in my house, you’ll be as subject to it as Aki, and they agreed. You were told this from the beginning, so now you’ll learn the hard way what it means.”

Haru makes a miserable little sound, and he takes a bit of pity on the frightened boy.

“Something else you’re going to learn,” he adds gently, “is that around here, once a boy has been punished for breaking rules, it’s over and forgotten. I won’t ever stay mad at you, and I’ll never bring it up again. It’s not going to be easy for you, but you must stay in position, no matter how much you’d like to move, and you must not try to cover your bottom with your hands, because it would hurt you if I accidentally struck your hands with the paddle. Do you understand?” He rests the paddle on Haru’s bare cheeks as he asks, and he’s once again glad they can’t see the expression on his face. They’re holding hands. It’s impossibly sweet. 

Haru sucks in a sharp breath when the paddle touches him. He tenses again, and his brows draw together as he tries to figure out exactly what Uncle Ryu has chosen to punish them with.

"Yes, Uncle Ryu," he says with palpable apprehension. "I'll try." He can't resist craning his neck around to try and see what his uncle is holding, and then he wishes he hadn't. Uncle Ryu obliges him with a knowing quirk of his lips and holds it up to allow Haru a better look. Haru's eyes widen. This paddle  definitely isn't one he's seen before. "What are the holes for?" he blurts out, sounding like a scared little kid.

 

“When one swings a wide, flat surface through the air at a high rate of speed, one creates wind resistance. The holes eliminate that resistance and let it cut through the air faster. in short, they make it hurt more,” says Uncle Ryu, wondering if it makes him a complete bastard that he loves the appalled and fascinated expression on Haru’s face.

“I’m really sorry you asked,” moans Aki softly. 

Uncle Ryu rubs the paddle in a small circle on Haru’s ass, then he lifts it to about shoulder height as opposed to as high as he COULD swing it. He doesn’t torture them with waiting. He’s too eager to get to what comes after the spanking to want to draw it out, and bless their little hearts, he needs to put them out of their misery before they scare themselves to death.

CRACK

The smooth wood impacts Haru’s upturned backside with a shockingly loud sound. It sounds worse than it is, but it still brings an instant pink bush to the boy’s pale skin. With reflexes born of years of rigorous training, he turns and gives Aki an identical stroke. He spanks both their adorable bare backsides twice before Haru manages to do more than open his mouth in breathless shock.

Aki is not as speechless.

“OWW! Uncle Ryu, please don’t! It hurts! I’m so sorry!” He yowls and squirms and pleads loudly, completely unrestrained. He knows perfectly well it won’t do any good, but his desperate begging goes straight to his uncle’s cock, which has been swelling steadily from the moment he walked into the condo tonight.

Poor Aki, Haru thinks, even as the paddle cracks across his own ass and startles a sharp cry from him. Aki doesn't take to the pain nearly as much as he does. He must  really need what Uncle Ryu gives him to willingly offer himself up to what's only going to get a lot worse.

A tender feeling wells up in Haru's chest, and he squeezes Akihito's hand, watching his face flush a deep pink as he writhes and cries out. His attention is abruptly brought back to Uncle Ryu and his own doomed backside when a much harder blow than what has come before lands on his upthrust bottom. He chokes on his own breath at the shock of it.

Another wail from Akihito, and then the paddle stings across Haru's cheeks again. It takes two more repeats before Haru is quite certain that the crack of it hitting his now burning ass is quite a bit louder than when it lands on Aki's.  Oh. This is going to be much worse than he was counting on.

"Paying attention now?" Uncle Ryu purrs close to his ear.

Haru nods frantically, pressing his hot cheeks into the sheets. "Yes, Uncle Ryu," he whimpers.

He hears a chuckle and then Uncle Ryu sits up again, and any hope that perhaps that was all the punishment a fictitious scenario required flies out the window when Haru hears the whistle of air through those evil holes. He yelps when the stinging smack comes, his fists clenching around a loose wad of bedding. What kind of evil bastard even thinks up those kind of things?

He has to stifle a bunch of hysterical giggles against the mattress when a voice pipes up in his head that he knows exactly what kind buys them.

Aki whines and keens and pleads with Uncle Ryu for mercy, but Uncle Ryu isn’t feeling merciful. The part of him that remains wholly himself recognizes that Aki is lost enough in his role that it doesn’t require a great deal of severity to bring him to contrite little boy tears. Haru, on the other hand, though he’s not struggling with the concept anymore….definitely not...still needs the thoroughly harsh spanking he’s always needed. Uncle Ryu lets himself be sadistically pleased that his newest nephew is quite such a naughty little boy and paddles him harder. After about a dozen blows, both boys’ backsides are bright cherry red and Aki is starting to break. He stops begging like a spoiled brat and just whimpers and cries out in a wet, ragged little voice. Haru isn’t far behind him due to the fact that he’s getting a much crueller encounter with the new paddle than Aki.

“I’m suh...suh...SO SORRY,” howls Aki. He’s sincere this time, and bursts into tears. Uncle Ryu spanks him harder when he starts to cry, and he wails in pain and writhes against his pillow.

“Little,” crack

“Boys,” crack

“Who skip,” crack

“School,” crack

“Get,” crack

“ Punished,”  CRACK!

He hisses the words at them both, landing solid, stinging spanks with the paddle on their squirming, red cheeks with each word. 

“But I’m SORRY,” sobs Aki.

“Me too!” whimpers Haru.

“You’re not sorry enough,” Uncle Ryu assures them. “But you will be.”

The sound of Aki’s voice thick with tears makes Haru’s tenuous grasp on his composure falter, and when Uncle Ryu backs up his words by raining down a fire of harsh smacks on their raw bottoms, he loses it completely.

“Ah! Ahh... please , Uncle Ryu! I...I’m so sorry. We’re  sorry ,” he wails into the mattress. “I p-promise. I won’t ever do it again!”

Aki is sobbing incoherently beside him, and the paddle still cracks down implacably. It’s heart-rending when Akihito starts to beg again. How anyone can resist it, he doesn’t know, but Uncle Ryu apparently can. Something shifts inside Haru, like a switch has been flipped. The thinking, worrying part of his brain shuts down, and he falls deeply into instinct and sensation.

At that moment, he’s completely and nothing but that punished,  very sorry little boy, desperate to appease, to prove just how sorry he is, and to protect what’s left of his blazing bottom. His shoulders shake as he begins to cry with great heaving breaths, and he begs his uncle between the hitched sobs.

“I’-I’m  sorry .  So Sorry. Pl-please…” 

He cries out piteously when the paddle catches on the underside of his cheeks with the loudest crack yet. “ Ahhhh ...oh, Uncle...pl-please...I’ll be g-good!”

 

He doles out another half-dozen strokes. It’s important, after all. Boys who break rules don’t get to call an end to their spankings just because their backsides hurt. They’re punished until they really FEEL punished. 

He sets the paddle down at last and seats himself at the head of the bed, hauling them up and into the shelter of his arms. They sob inconsolably against the pristine snowy linen of his shirt, but he doesn’t care. He strokes their backs and their sweat-damp hair and places soft kisses on their heads.

“Shh. Hush now. It’s all over. My good boys. You were very brave.”

He resolutely ignores the insistent ache in his pants until their sobbing fades to soft sniffles. He clears his throat softly and they look up at him obediently, their thick eyelashes clumped together in wet spikes with their tears.

“Your spankings are over,” he says softly, “but there’s something else we must deal with. Pretty young boys who run off out of the city without anyone to protect them put themselves in grave danger. There are people...nasty men...who prey on naive little boys when they’re all alone. Some very bad things could have happened to you, and it would have killed me. You’re going to learn some of the things that happen to helpless, naughty children who run away.”

Aki moans softly and Uncle Ryu feels his hot, hard erection rub against his thigh. He knows what’s coming, knows it will hurt a little because Uncle Ryu is afraid and angry about the things that might have befallen them, but he wants it anyway. Uncle Ryu looks down at Haru’s tearstained face, and sees the confusion there.

A small but very wicked smiles passes fleetingly over the older man’s face.

Haru flushes with sudden understanding, and he presses his hot face against Uncle Ryu's chest. A small burning warmth bursts into life deep in his belly and begins to spread, and he shudders almost imperceptibly in the cirle of Uncle Ryu's arm.

"What kinds of things?" he dares to ask, peeking across at Akihito from beneath his hair. He wonders if his eyes look as big and dark and glassy. Tears and salt tracks stain Aki's face, and he appears almost feverish with the high color in his cheeks and pupils blown wide.

“I’m going to show you what happens to naughty little boys who run away from school,” says Uncle Ryu in his deep, rich voice, made deeper and richer by his arousal. “And I think that is all I’m going to tell you. You’re just going to have to find out for yourself.”

He sits up and pulls two pairs of soft, leather wrist cuffs out from behind the headboard where they are permanently fastened. Aki doesn’t fight him, for though he’s nervous, he also wants this badly. Craves his Uncle’s touch as he craves air. Or Pocky. He lets out a soft moan as the leather is buckled securely around his slender wrists. 

Haru is too confused...and curious...to put up a struggle. Very soon two big-eyed little boys are lying on their backs, wriggling uncomfortably as their well-paddled rear ends rub against the soft, egyptian cotton sheets, staring fearfully up at him as he unbuttons his shirt and slowly takes it off. He kneels above first Aki, and then Haru, gently tugging their ties free and unbuttoning their shirts. Since he’s reasonably certain they haven’t any more of them, he doesn’t cut them off but leaves them gaping open, revealing peaked little pink nipples and taut bellies under straining little erections. The tips of their pretty cocks are red and wet and their arousal looks as urgent and painful as his feels. 

If Haru’s eyes sparkle a little when he gapes at his new Uncle in shock and horror, said Uncle is happy to ignore it and glare sternly at him when he struggles.

“Be still, Haru,” he says menacingly. “You’re going to take what’s coming to you. It’s going to hurt, but you’ve been so terribly naughty and I’m afraid I must teach you a lesson. Naughty little truants get snapped up off the street by terrible men who turn them into dirty little sluts who have to let great big hard cocks inside their poor little assholes while they beg and cry for mercy. But no one listens. Ohh, Haru, it’s going to ache and burn...but you’re one of the lucky ones, because after I make your little boy hole red and sore….sweet boy, I’m going to make you feel. So. Good.”

He leans down and sucks Haru’s erection into his mouth, stroking the sensitive little knot of skin under the head with his tongue while he wraps his fingers around Aki’s cock and strokes it gently and expertly.

“AH! Ohh...oh, Uncle Ryu,” cries Aki, arching his hips up into the caress, “Oh please...do you have to do it hard?”

“Yes baby boy, I have to,” says Uncle Ryu, stifling a groan and the muffled oaths that want to escape at the sight and sound of him like this. 

“But...but it hurts my hole when you’re rough,” whimpers the boy, rocking his hips and panting.

“I know,” purrs his heartless uncle. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

Haru groans when Uncle Ryu's mouth engulfs his cock again. His wrists jerk against the cuffs that hold his arms above his head and his hips roll. He knows he's only moments--maybe seconds--away from coming. Uncle Ryu obviously knows it too because he pulls back with a wicked smirk.

"See, Haru-kun, what a naughty little slut you've already become with only this?"

Haru's instant, bright flush only makes his smile wider and more predatory, and Akihito's writhing as Uncle Ryu continues to work his leaking cock makes it even worse.

"But I...I can't help it," he cries with all the mortification and indignation of suffering youth. "You... you're making me like this!" He swallows hard when Uncle Ryu's intimidating gaze narrows. "And...and Uncle Ryu..." Haru falters, "nothing happened! We're...we're okay...so...you...can let us off this time...can't you?" His hopeful words trail off into a soft little whimper as Uncle Ryu leans closer.

 

“Oh but I can’t,” he purrs into Haru’s ear, flicking his tongue out to lap teasingly at the flushing rim. “Little boys who break rules never learn their lessons when  nothing happens. ”

He leans back with an even more predatory smile and plucks two things out of the drawer of the bedside table. He watches their faces from hooded eyes as he slowly lubricates the medium-sized anal plug in his hand. 

“W...wh...what’s that?” breathes Haru. He’s not having trouble feeling the role he’s playing now. Asami smirks at his boy through Uncle Ryu’s eyes. 

“This, my dirty little boy, is what you’re going to have pushed up inside your tight little asshole to open you up and make you ready for my cock, and it’s what you’ll wear while you have to watch me do terrible things to poor Aki, knowing you’ll be next and that there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

He reaches with slick fingers between Haru’s legs, forcing them open, and thrusts a finger slowly inside his tightly clenched little hole. Haru yelps and struggles and Uncle Ryu frowns, slapping him sharply on the inside of his thigh. He ignores the boy’s whines and protests and carefully presses the tip of the plug to his cute little rosy pink asshole. Haru goes silent and rigid in shock (and possibly with the tremendous effort not to come yet) as he works it in and back out a little at a time until suddenly the snug ring of muscle inside his asshole sucks the plug in and closes tightly around it.

Oh, God. Haru gasps a little, and his hips shift on the bed. It's strange, being stuffed full of the smooth, hard plastic. Even though it doesn't move, it's so  intrusive , makes him feel excruciatingly self-conscious, knowing he can't get away from it and what it's meant to do.

Another flare of tight, hot  want rolls through his belly, and he has to bite his bottom lip to keep from moaning. He turns his head to hide from Uncle Ryu's discerning gaze and fixes his eyes on Akihito instead, who's looking up at Uncle Ryu with naked need.

Aki already looks debauched, his lithe body on display, trembling and flushed. His nipples are hard little peaks, and the silver circles of the rings shift a little as his chest rises and falls in rapid motion. He looks completely fuckable, and Haru knows that's just what's going to happen to his wayward cousin now.

He feels a little bad for how very much he wants to see it, for how he wants to see Uncle Ryu teach him exactly what happens to bad little boys, and to see his pretty, suffering face wet with tears again.

His wrists give another involuntary jerk, and the chains connecting the cuffs to the head of the bed jangle. The plug shifts inside and Haru moans aloud.

 

“Such a dirty boy,” murmurs Uncle Ryu softly, kissing Haru hard on his wet, reddened lips, a bit swollen from how he’s been biting them. He strokes his thumb softly over the hideously aroused and very nervous younger boy’s cheek in a show of affection, and then turns to his principal little deviant.

“Aki,” he says reprovingly, dipping one finger back into the little jar of lube. “You should be ashamed of yourself. This stunt had your name written all over it. Haru’s mother assured me he was an excellent student with an exemplary record. He hasn’t been here a week and you’ve already got him going along with your schemes?”

“I didn’t,” pouts Aki mulishly, staring avidly at Uncle Ryu’s finger as his uncle leans over him menacingly.

“Oh, you did. And now you’re going to suffer for it a bit more.” He shoves his finger into his naughtiest nephew’s ass and Aki cries out at the suddenness of the invasion. The probing finger pumps in and out of his asshole a few times, then is abruptly withdrawn and he’s flipped over onto his stomach.

“Uncle Ryu,” quavers the boy, suddenly contrite once again. “I won’t get Haru in trouble anymore, I promise! Just...just please! Please, not too hard?”

“Filthy boy,” growls their uncle. “You’re so hard you’re about to come untouched on that pillowcase. Not too hard indeed. I’ve given you all the preparation you’re getting. You’re being punished, you little brat. Now I’m showing you what you were lucky enough to avoid from some horrific stranger….this time.”

“No!” cries Aki, wriggling madly as his perverted, nasty, mean Uncle rolls on top of him, pinning him to the bed, and slides his thick, heavy cock between Aki’s raw, paddled cheeks. “NO! Please, Uncle Ryu, I’m SO...AHH!” His plea is strangled by a howl of pain as his tight little hole is pried open roughly and Uncle Ryu forces his cock inside.

“Wretch,” hisses Uncle Ryu, pulling back a little and then pressing the rest of the way inside the wriggling boy’s impossibly tight heat. Aki yowls and bucks and squeals as he’s forced open, his voice going thick with tears again.

“Ohhh,” he sobs, “oh it HURTS.”

“It’s supposed to hurt, filthy brat. A stranger wouldn’t have slicked your naughty little hole for you first.”

Poor Aki bawls and tries to crawl away, except that it’s obvious he’s not trying very hard. He chants brokenly that it hurts, it hurts...but his round bottom arches up to meet Uncle Ryu’s hard thrusting cock and he moans wantonly between pleas and protests. He opens his tear-filled eyes and sees Haru staring at him, enraptured.

“H..hah...Haru,” he cries softly, wishing he had a hand free to reach out to his cousin, but Haru sees it in his eyes and then they are straining towards one another at the very end of the short chains binding them to the headboard and it’s enough...JUST enough, that their lips can meet and they kiss each other, a sloppy, raw meeting of lips and teeth and tongues. Aki keens softly into Haru’s mouth as he’s cruelly used, and Haru moans eagerly back.

“Such bad little boys,” murmurs Uncle Ryu softly. Abruptly, Aki’s pained sounds dissolve into helpless pleasure as the cock inside him slows, gentles….and finds that secret spot inside his body that makes his toes curl and his balls draw tight. He’s so overwrought that it takes no time at all. He shouts helplessly, coming loudly and messily amid his torrent of tears and Uncle Ryu presses inside him deeply once last time, grunting and then hissing through his teeth as the tight little hole surrounding his cock grips him fiercely and he fills Aki with his seed. 

"Are you okay, Aki?" Haru whispers, his lips still close to Akihito's. "Does it hurt?"

Because Uncle Ryu is still buried inside Akihito's round bottom, and Akihito is breathing so raggedly that it sounds like sobs.

He watches Aki's teary eyes flutter open, and his pupils are blown wide. "Haru," he says thickly. "'S gonna...gonna be all right. Just...just try to relax, 'kay?"

Haru nods mutely, his throat constricting with a sudden tightness because he knows Aki's concern is genuine, that he's still so deep into his role, and even then he's looking out for him. His gaze slowly raises to Uncle Ryu, and his eyes shine wetly.

His watches Uncle Ryu as he nods. "Okay." His voice wavers a little, and he's not sure if it's because Uncle Ryu chooses that moment to pull his cock from Akihito's trembling body, and Aki mewls like a lost kitten, or if it's because his own need is so great he thinks might come if Uncle Ryu lays so much as a finger on him.

He takes a deep breath, and the way his body moves with it reminds him of the plug that's stretching his bottom just for Uncle Ryu. His hole clenches tightly around it for a second, then relaxes. Haru shudders.

 

Uncle Ryu helps Aki turn back over onto his back and puts some slack in the chain attached to his cuffs, but doesn’t release him. He doesn’t want the boy interfering in his dealing with Haru. He brushes the shaggy hair out of Aki’s face and kisses him softly; forehead, cheek, and mouth.

“You’re a good boy, Aki,” he whispers softly.

“I’m really sorry, Uncle Ryu,” he quavers.

“Shh. It’s all over. Clean slate,” he reassures his nephew, then turns towards Haru, who is watching them wide-eyed. “But not for you yet, my adorable little budding criminal.” He grins wolfishly and Haru whimpers. Uncle Ryu leans down and captures the soft sound from Haru’s lips, kissing him deeply, licking into the boy’s mouth and making him groan hungrily. His hands roam over warm, smooth skin, plucking and pinching at small pink nipples and then reaching between the boy’s squirming legs to press gently on the flange of the plug. Haru gasps, and he takes the edges of the flange in his fingers, gripping it and turning it, rocking it gently back and forth. 

He’s not in a hurry, because he’s going to need a few minutes before he’s ready again, and he wants to build up the anticipation anyway. He nips Haru’s bottom lip, then the point of his chin and presses his lips to the hollow of the trembling boy’s throat. He laves the flat of his tongue over first one and then the other small, pebbled nipple. He sucks them, one at a time, into his mouth and bites carefully until Haru mewls softly at the pinch of it, leaving the small, tender nubs reddened and slightly swollen. Haru is panting wantonly and making eager little sounds in the back of his throat, and the older man realizes it’s not going to take as long as he might have thought. His wicked mouth curves in a slow smile against the quivering muscles of the boy’s belly and then he grasps the edges of the plug securely and pulls it suddenly and firmly out of poor Haru’s grasping asshole, wrenching a howl from the boy’s sweet mouth and rendering his own cock quite ready for round two.

"Ahhh...Uncle Ryu!" Haru cries reproachfully, which only makes his uncle chuckle darkly.

"What's wrong, little boy? Do you miss being filled already? Do you need something else to fill up that hungry little hole of yours?"

"That's...that's not what I meant," Haru stutters with blushing denial. It may be  true , but there's no way he's admitting that to Uncle Ryu. "It...it  hurt ."

"That?" Uncle Ryu's voice rumbles in amusement. "Oh, poor naughty Haru. You're in for  such a shock. What do you think it will feel like when my cock is stretching your sweet little pucker wide? It will strain and clench and flutter, but I'll push past every resistance and it will burn  so bad. There won't be  anything you can do about it when I sink in deeper, right up to the root, and you'll be able to do nothing but take it, even if it feels like you'll be split in two."

Haru whimpers. "Please, Uncle Ryu...I...I’ve learned my lesson.  Honest. "

 

“You may think that’s true. All little boys swear they’ve learned their lessons when they’re being punished You won’t have learned your lesson deep down until it’s driven home. Forcefully. Now, will you turn over like a good boy, or shall I make you?”

Haru muffles a tiny sob, but he wriggles and squirms and heaves himself over onto his belly without using his bound hands.

“That’s my boy,” he says softly, and he straddles the boy’s thighs, leaning down to kiss the back of his neck sweetly, making Haru shiver and gasp. He uses his knees to nudge the boy’s legs wide apart and settles between them, holding himself up on one hand while the other wraps around his own swelling cock, pumping it a few times to ensure he’s absolutely ready to ravage the boy’s tiny asshole. He rubs the little pink bud with his thumb. It is soft and slick and parts for him easily, so he nestles the wide, blunt head of his cock against the small pucker and grins. “Take a deep breath, naughty boy,” he purrs. “This is going to burn.”

And he presses inside Haru’s hot little body with one long, firm thrust. It isn’t violent, but it forces Haru’s stretched hole to stretch even more, beyond the point of comfort and into pain, and he sinks to the hilt with one slow shove. Haru stiffens and his voice rises shrilly with distress.

“Uncle Ryu!” he cries in a panic, “Please! I can’t! It’s too big!”

Little Haru is already overwrought, and this is too much. His shoulders shake as he cries once more, babbling breathless pleas, which his heartless Uncle meets with a soft chuckle.

“It’s big, baby boy, but it’s not too big. Look, I’m all the way inside already. Feel how your sore little hole clenches and flutters? It feels so GOOD, pretty boy. You’re lucky it’s me doing this to you. I won’t damage you, only leave you with an aching backside and a raw, sore little hole for a few days.”

This being said, and met with Haru’s desperate whimper, he drags his cock back and back, almost all the way out, until just the wide mushroom head is held inside the clench of the boy’s asshole. Haru shakes his head wildly and Uncle Ryu whispers to him again.

“Does it hurt, little boy?”

“Yes!” wails Haru.

“Does your poor little hole ache and burn?”

“Ye-yes,” whimpers Haru.

“Do you want me to stop?” he rumbles into Haru’s ear, his voice rich as melting chocolate.

“...Yes,” cries Haru after a brief hesitation, because the young man inside the boy would rather die than be spared right now.

“ Tough ,” snarls Uncle Ryu, and slams his cock all the way back inside the soft, velvety warmth of his nephew’s hole. 

Another raw cry is wrenched out of him, but the cruel tease of Uncle Ryu's words only makes Haru's cock harder. It rubs against the deliciously smooth sheets with hard to resist friction as Uncle Ryu plows into him with ruthless precision. His legs are spread so wide, Haru can't do anything but take it.

He can't even lift his hips to slow the pleasure that's building to the point of no return. But he just can't let himself come like this, so shamefully displayed, as his sore little hole is fucked and punished.

"Oh...Uncle Ryu...I...oh...it...it  hurts ," he catches himself before the words he really wants to say spill out. It  does hurt. Uncle Ryu is so big, and even after being stretched by the plug, Haru feels every inch of it. But, oh, likes it too, every bit of that strange, stretched fullness that burns so, the sharp bright pain that makes  his eyes sting and his stomach tingle, the  taking . It makes him want to beg for more despite his tears and what a truly dirty little boy this makes him. And he thinks maybe Uncle Ryu made a mistake after all thinking that Haru would learn his lesson from this, because Haru thinks he might be tempted to be very very bad indeed if only he can feel this way again.

His words seem to spur his uncle not to gentle his thrusts, but to spear him more cruelly, only the angle shifts just slightly. Haru's vision sparks with bright dots of light as Uncle Ryu's thick cock drags over that spot again and again until Haru trapped erection pulses against his belly, and he comes with a strangled sob.

 

Uncle Ryu grins savagely to himself when his bad little boy loses control and he feels the tremors rock Haru’s body, his poor abused hole clenching and releasing around his punishing thrusts. He’s already come once, so he growls softly and fucks Haru through his orgasm...and beyond.

“You’re….Aki! Listen to me,” he says sharply when he notices the hazy look in his older nephew’s eyes. Aki looks up at him fearfully, worried he’s done something else wrong, but Uncle Ryu pauses long enough to pet the boy reassuringly for a moment. “You’re my boys,” he continues, slowing his assault on Haru’s bottom but not stopping. “You are mine to care for, and I will protect you always. But when you do foolish things that put you at risk, I may not be able to be there to keep you safe.”

Haru whimpers as his overstimulated sweet spot continues to feel the rhythmic rubbing of his uncle’s sizeable prick.

“We’re sorry, Uncle Ryu,” whispers Aki. “We won’t do it again!”

“We  promise,”  whimpers Haru hopefully. Whether he actually hopes Uncle Ryu will stop assaulting him or keep going is anyone’s guess.

“I’m glad,” he says a little breathlessly, because Haru’s asshole feels fantastic as it quivers and flinches while he fucks into his boy over and over. “And that’s why this has happened to you. When you’re good boys, I’ll touch you and tease you and kiss you all over and it won’t hurt, only feel wonderful. But naughty boys get fucked. Hard and raw. You’re going to be sore for several days, and I hope you’ll think about why.”

“Y-yes Uncle Ryu,” pants Haru, who is starting to cry again because he’s very sore and he’s very sensitive after his orgasm and his cock being rubbed against the sheets feels like sandpaper now, and his prostate aches like a bruise when his uncle’s cock rubs against it, and yet it feels good too.  He sounds a little lost and scared, not knowing when or if it’s ever going to end.

“We will,” agrees Aki swiftly, not at all anxious for further punishment.

“That’s my boys,” says Uncle Ryu, breathing hard and clenching his teeth. “Hn. You’re forgiven.”

His second orgasm is as sweet as the first, pumping his spunk into Haru’s shuddering, lithe body. It is as close to heaven as he figures he’s ever going to get. Drained, he lets his head hang for a moment as he remembers how to breathe, then he very gently pulls out of Haru’s ass, noting with perverse pleasure that his rosy little pucker is red and swollen. He collapses onto his back and finds the strength to unbuckle they boys’ wrist cuffs, then he yanks them both roughly into his arms, their heads resting on his chest.

Haru curls closer, molding his body against Uncle Ryu. He feels limp and drained, but pleasurably so. His toes bump against Akihito's bare feet, and they smile languidly at each other. The rhythm of Uncle Ryu's heart beneath his ear slowly evens out, lulling him into a lazy daydream, and the little twinges and aches from his sore bottom only increase his contentment. He sighs deeply.

Uncle Ryu's fingers stroke through his hair, or maybe it's Asami-sama again, Haru isn't sure. "All right, sweet boy?" he asks in his deep, soothing voice.

Either way, Haru is happy to stay right where he is, and he shares another secretive grin with Aki before he answers. "Yes...absolutely perfect." 

 

It’s often hard to tell with Aki when he’s gotten what he needs from a trip to the past. There are times when discipline and sex are all he wants, and there are times when those aren’t nearly enough. Asami only sheds enough of Uncle Ryu to make sure everyone’s okay, and it seems everyone is more than okay, so he waits a little, for a clue or sign of what comes next. He’s content with any eventuality. 

Aki shrugs out of his embrace after a little while and sits up, wincing a little when his sore bottom comes in contact with the bed’s surface. Haru lifts his head and pouts at Aki.

“Next time, when somebody says ‘what do you wanna do today,’” he grouses, “ I  get to pick!”

“D’you wanna pick now?” asks Aki after he sticks out his tongue. Haru hesitates and looks to Asami for guidance. Asami lifts one shoulder a little to indicate that he’s not certain either, but he picks up the ball.

“What is it  you  want, Aki-kun?” he asks indulgently.

“I want...I want to eat dinner on the floor in the living room and play Saints Row multiplayer and then watch a movie and I want Haru to sleep over.”

“Mm,” says Uncle Ryu, for apparently they are not finished. “Well, I should hate to waste the dinner you two fixed for us earlier. You’d better make sure Haru knows what happens to little boys here at night after the lights are out though,” he adds with an admittedly salacious smirk. Aki flushes and hides behind his bangs, peeking at Haru.

“Af….After the lights go out it’s….ngh…” He squirms and Uncle Ryu prods him gently with his finger. “He lets you…if you’ve been good...you get to come as much as you want.”

“But...but we weren’t...good. Were we?” asks Haru in confusion. Aki grins shyly at him and leans across Uncle Ryu’s supine body to kiss him. It’s not a very experienced kiss, and he misses a little and only gets a corner of Haru’s mouth.

“You’re always good again after you get spanked,” he whispers loudly.

“That’s quite right,” agrees Uncle Ryu. “Clean slate. Are you boys hungry?”

“I’m starved,” says Aki, bouncing. “Plus we made udon and we have tons of vegetables and we could have nabe! Nabe! Nabe! Please?”

His uncle chuckles and looks at Haru with one eyebrow raised in inquiry. 

Haru has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from giggling at Aki's enthusiasm, and then he decides there isn't any reason to hide it, so he lets it spill over. It seems like Uncle Ryu and his excitable cousin are here to stay a while. He finds that is suits him just fine.

"I would like to stay over," Haru agrees shyly, and then a broad grin spreads over his face. "And I'm starving too. Can we eat now?"

Dinner is more chaotic than any meal inside his home within memory, and he doesn’t care one bit. His boys are like affectionate puppies, cuddly and playful and cute, and he feels once again the odd suffocating weakness in his chest when he watches them. It is both terrifying and wonderful, but he doesn’t dwell on it tonight. Tonight he nips a food fight in the bud and allows himself to be fed by hand with eager fingers attached to boys who find it hilarious to miss his mouth repeatedly. This one goes on until he’s starting to feel distinctly sticky and grabs Aki’s wrist on his next try.

“Enough,” says Uncle Ryu firmly. “I can feed myself, and if you keep pushing this, I know two little boys who will be getting their sore backsides warmed again, and I really don’t think you’d want that.”

They’re positively angelic for a little while after that, but not for TOO long. Because he’s utterly unable to resist Aki, he’s recently purchased not one but TWO extra Playstation consoles so multiple people can play Saints Row, Fable, and Call of Duty. He finds himself blowing away policemen and rival gang members and cursing that idiot, Pierce, once again. It’s an absurd amount of fun. 

The movie is entirely lost on all of them after the first ten minutes, because in the darkened room, by some unspoken agreement between the two of them, his boys hesitantly start to explore his body and it’s as captivating as it is arousing. He smiles and puts his hands behind his head, leaning back, when they pause and peer at him a little nervously. 

“Can we?” asks Haru.

“Of course,” says Uncle Ryu placidly.

“You can’t move,” says Aki sternly. “You’re our prisoner.”

“Am I then?”

“Um...not if it’s not okay,” says Haru honestly. “My butt hurts.”

He laughs, an open, honest one that surprises him, and submits with good humor to being their captive. This lasts until most of his clothes are gone and all of theirs are and they’re tussling over which one of them gets to go down on him (they’ve already had a contest to see which one of them can get his cock farther down their throat without gagging, so he thinks he can be excused for getting a little less cooperative). They can’t decide whether they’d rather kiss and lick his shaft, kiss and lick each other, or wrestle. He escapes his invisible bonds and scoops one of them up under each arm, marching to the bedroom accompanied by their delighted shrieks of protest, and the throws them onto his bed.

“My turn,” he purrs with a filthy smile.

The boys giggle and scramble up to their knees shoulder to shoulder, watching Uncle Ryu climb onto the bed. It's been hours since Haru has almost completely forgotten they're play acting at all. He's been too caught up in the sheer fun, and even more importantly, the sheer  ease of it. He hasn't been this relaxed in a long time. All of the tension he tends to carry around, his carefulness, and his reserve have melted away.

He feels comfortable teasing and daring things he perhaps wouldn't normally with Asami-sama, but now, like this, it just seems natural to reach out and touch, to cuddle and play, and he knows he won't be able to thank Akihito enough for inviting him into this so generously.

"Uncle Ryu," he says, blushing a little as he asks. "Can I have a kiss?"

Uncle Ryu's wicked smile, turns a bit softer. "Of course, sweet boy."

His kiss is warm and slow and thorough, and it makes Haru's toes curl just as much as the more dominating kisses that take his breath away. His heart squeezes with a sweet ache, and Haru's lashes flutter when Uncle Ryu pulls away. "Now, Aki," he whispers.

Uncle Ryu's lips quirk, but he obeys and kisses Akihito the same way. Haru watches raptly, and when the kiss breaks, he dares one more thing.

"And after...you know..." Haru turns a faint pink. "Will you tell us a bedtime story?"

 

It is quite a bit later when Asami stands at the foot of his bed and watches Akihito and Haruki sleeping. They are as deeply asleep as two human beings can possibly be, because he’s made sure they both come twice more before giving them any peace, and before granting Haru’s request. He doesn’t know how much of his perverted twist on Hansel and Gretel...the one where both children are boys, and the witch is a wizard, and he catches and keeps them in a cage not to cook and eat them, but to make them his obedient little slaves….well. He can always tell them more of it another time, since he’s pretty sure they were both asleep before he got through the first 3 minutes. 

He turns to the dresser and snags a pair of sleep pants, then slips between them and under the covers. In their sleep, they snuggle close, sweet as sleeping kittens. Haru had taken to it quite well after all. Asami thinks it was harder for him than it is for Aki, to get into the mental headspace of a younger boy, but that at the times where he did sink into the role, he was just as deeply embroiled in it as Aki was.  Haru squirms a little in his sleep, pressing closer to Asami, and he chuckles very softly, so as not to awaken either of his boys.

Roleplaying is something at which he has plenty of training and experience, and though ageplay has never been one of his personal kinks, he finds to his surprise that it has BECOME one of them. To draw Akihito out of his defensive shell and enable the delightfully dirty boy underneath would be worth much less pleasant work than acting the part of Uncle Ryu, so the fact that he gets what he wants while the only price to be paid is doing something that just flat fucking DOES it for him...in comparison to how difficult a number of other things are with Akihito...is almost too good to be true.

Aki had been nervous, bringing Haru into this. Afraid he’d think it was weird or stupid, but it seems that, after some initial awkwardness, Haru has enjoyed it as much as Aki. Perhaps it will never hold much of the theraputic that it represents for the older boy…. But then again, maybe it does. Haru is hesitant to reach for him, to initiate contact, or to turn to him for comfort, perhaps in fear of being too forward or of offending. Teenaged Haru has no such qualms, and Asami finds it impossibly endearing.  Akihito, for all his professed awkwardness and ineloquence has, once again, settled on just exactly the thing all of them apparently needed.


	11. Lunch Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please note before reading! Once again, this series is an AU. It contains an OC as one of the main characters. It's an offshoot of my main blog on Tumblr. If you've read this far, you probably already know this, but I wish to be entirely clear. My writing partner and myself split this AU off and created a sort of parallel universe to the already alternate universe of askasamifeiandaki.tumblr.com because we and some of our readers really liked the relationship we had begun to build. We know not everyone likes OC's. That's okay. We write it because it makes us happy, and share it because we have some fans who have grown as weird about this triad as we are. Please do not read it if you're looking for canon relationships, completely canon behavior, Asami to be a cold bastard, or anything like that. If you enjoy BDSM and filthy sex and vibrant characters building healthy but alternative relationships, give it a try, and visit us at wheremydem0nsh1de.tumblr.com AND itoharuki.tumblr.com
> 
> Asami has some free time. He drops by the University to take Haru to lunch but things don't go entirely according to plan.

It’s entirely spur of the moment, which is a little unusual for him. Most of the time his work days are rigorously scheduled down to the minute. Today, he has an unheard of two cancellations. They’re not far from the University, so he directs Suoh there. It’s strange, but also strangely refreshing, to walk across campus and not be recognized or approached or viewed with fear or intimidation. Nobody recognizes him or takes much note of him at all. With one exception.

“Asami-sama!” a dizzying array of flying hair, bewildering amounts of tulle, and combat boots races up to him. If he hadn’t already recognized the voice, he’d be tempted to try to protect himself from the onslaught, but it can only be one person.

“Hello, Sami,” he says with a smile, inclining his head graciously. She stops, adjusts an enormous backpack, and bows from the waist, whereupon the backpack slides up her back and hits her in the back of the head. He prevents her from toppling over on her face and she hugs him. Well, she did warn them she was a hugger. He finds he doesn’t mind. Hugging her back, he helps her resituate the massive thing. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Haruki is right now, would you?”

“Oh sure, I just saw him,” she says gaily. “He’s over there in the arts building, working on his model. You go in the south entrance and there’s a glass railing where you can stand and watch the artists and architecture grad students working but not get in their way. You’re um, not supposed to go down there unless one of them is with you, but he can invite you down. I mean, of course he will, just…” she looks down at her phone. “Crap, I’m gonna be late, I’m so sorry, Asami-sama. But it’s that building, just there. It’s great to see you!” She’s still talking animatedly as she walks away from him backwards, pointing and then waving.

Chuckling, he turns in the direction she’s pointed and goes in search of Haru. He has the boy’s schedule memorized, and knows he doesn’t have any more classes today.

The Arts building is all glass and steel, full of light and motion. It gives the impression of being full of sunshine somehow, its many surfaces reflecting and refracting the sun’s rays so that it falls pleasingly on sculptures and installations showcasing student work. Some of it is amazing. A great deal of talent is housed in this building, he thinks as he strolls down the halls and moves towards the central railing marking the balcony that overlooks the staging floor. There are a few students down there working on their installations, but his eyes are drawn immediately to Haru, so that he cannot see any of the others. He intends to make some gesture to catch his boy’s eye, but finds himself unable to do so. He is mesmerized.

Haru is working on the little details of a design project. It is a building and its grounds done in miniature. The building itself, the focus of the project is truly remarkable. It makes use of lines and angles in creative and compelling ways. He admires it for a few minutes, which says a great deal for how good it is, because Haru himself is what really draws Asami’s eye. He is bent over the table gluing tiny colored bits of flocking into little planting beds to represent flowers. He is utterly intent on what he’s doing, reacting not at all to any noises anyone else in the area is making. His mobile, expressive face shifts expressions from a frown of concentration to a tiny displeased grimace when he doesn’t like where he’s placed something, to a little smile of satisfaction when he does like it. The tip of his tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth just a little bit. Asami finds it adorable.

Everything about Haru at work is compelling as hell. He moves around the model with grace and fluidity, his hands precise and steady. The muscles in his slender forearms, his biceps and his back shift, elongate, and flex. The shirt he wears is pulled tight along his back, clearly showing the long, clean lines of the muscle on either side of his spine and the perfectly spaced small bumps of his vertebrae. His grey slacks are belted around his slim waist and pulled tight, like his shirt, hugging his pert little round ass.

Although that particular view is spectacular, Asami’s eyes are drawn back to his boy’s face. His hair, black and shiny as a raven’s wing, is a bit too mussed for perfection. When Haru is thinking hard, he will unconsciously run his fingers through his hair. Unlike Aki’s, which sticks out in all directions like a fretful hedgehog when he does it, Haru’s hair is softer and finer than Akihito’s. It falls mostly back into place, just a little bit messy. It makes Asami want to mess it up more.

He closes his eyes for a second, imagining the way that silky, soft hair feels tickling his belly or thighs as Haru uses his mouth and that cute pink tongue on Asami’s cock and balls. He has the same frown on his face then as he has now. A tiny vertical line between his fine, black eyebrows, the one he has when he is very intent on the task at hand. How Asami loves being the object of that focus.

Haru’s bangs are in his eyes as usual. Occasionally he gives his head a tiny toss to get them out of the way. Asami’s hands itch to slide into the softness of Haru’s hair, to caress, stroke the curve of his skull, tighten into a fist. Haru’s eyes will widen just a bit, his pupils dilating, darkening his eyes to the color of deep twilight or the vivid blue just before the dawn breaks. He will gasp, his sweet lips parting, then make one of those tiny, helpless sounds Asami finds so arousing.

His hands itch, also to cup the rounded softness of Haru’s cheek. He’ll tilt his head, leaning into the caress. If he could, Haru would purr when Asami pets him. He can nearly feel the wetness of his lips where his tongue has wet them, warm and lush under Asami’s thumb as he strokes it, the tip of that little kitten tongue tasting him. He watches the slender column of Haru’s neck, the way it works when he swallows, imagines that even from here he can see the pulse beating strongly in this throat, can taste the way that pulse beats faster and thicker when his teeth mark such fragile skin.

Asami’s eyes roam over the boy as he works, resting haphazardly one place and then another. His ears are neat, close to his skull, seeming somehow very fragile to Asami, as if Haru were made of porcelain so fine it is translucent in places. Haru’s ears turn red when he’s embarrassed. It’s terribly endearing. They turn red when he’s aroused too, especially when Asami whispers the filthy things he’s going to do to Haru later.

His hands are slender and grateful, a dancer’s hands, and it’s true that the way he moves around the table is much like a dance. How often has Asami felt those hands on his skin, so tentative at first, shaking with Haru’s nerves and his need. How he clutches desperately at the bedclothes, at Akihito’s hands when Asami orders one or the other of them to hold the other still. Not that he really needs to, he just likes the way they look clinging to each other.

Nothing about Haru’s clothing is revealing in any way, and yet Asami can see in his mind’s eye every inch of that slender, lithe body laid on his bed. They’re so small, his boys, nearly fragile in their grace and beauty. And yet the fragility is only on the surface, because both of them are much tougher than they seem. Both physically and emotionally. He tries not to think of all of Akihito’s scrapes and mishaps, because it makes him feel like he’s adding years to his age with alarming speed when he lets himself dwell on it. He’s had his fill of hothouse flowers. Of pretty little brainless twits and gold diggers who were fucking his money as much as they were fucking him. Who couldn’t have dealt with a tenth of the things that make Aki and Haru beg for more.

Haru kneels to eye some detail of his project at its own level and the sight of it goes straight to Asami’s gut with a flash of heat. He feels himself start to harden. Closes his eyes just for a moment and can see Haru at his feet, gazing up at him, his lovely eyes blown black with desire, his body trembling with need, unashamed to beg Asami for what he craves.

He doesn’t care about the money. Asami doesn’t even think Haru has the first clue how rich he REALLY is. He’s never asked, because it doesn’t matter to him. It matters to Aki only in that he thinks it’s ridiculous for anybody to have so much of it. Asami can’t remember EVER being wanted just for himself, and it is as magnificent to him as it is unbelievable. He believes deep inside his black soul that Haru would throw himself to the ground at Asami’s feet as readily if he were unemployed and poor as dirt.

He’s not sure why seeing Haru in his element is so arousing to him, but oh, it is. He can’t peel his eyes from the boy. He wants to go down there and mess him up, but at the same time he doesn’t want to stop watching him at it. How had he never known how talented the boy was? It gives Haru a new facet to find compelling. And he does. He’d go down there and bend that pretty little body over his table and fuck him blind in a hot minute, but the project is too exquisite for such careless treatment. He leans out over the rail a little, resting his elbows on it, and devours Haru’s body with his eyes. He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be willing to wait, but finds himself loath to take the boy away from his painstaking work.

Haru plucks a little shrub from its place and moves it over. He straightens and looks down at his project with a critical eye Asami finds absurdly cute. With a satisfied nod he begins to turn, but freezes instead. Very slowly, his body spins on its access, like the needle of a compass seeking North. He raises his eyes and locks his gaze to Asami’s as though he’s simply sensed the force of his Master’s gaze.

Ohh, Asami wants to hear that word from his mouth again. Wants to take all. Everything. To own and keep all the beauty Haru has to give and never let him go. The very thought of anyone else experiencing his charms makes Asami want to kill someone. Slowly. With a spoon.

They stare silently at one another. Asami knows some of his thoughts are showing on his face. He cannot bring himself to drum up his usual expression of amused superiority in the face of the need he feels for this boy right now. He knows that if he doesn’t have Haru soon….very soon…something very bad is going to happen. Haru’s lips part a little, and Asami sees them move slightly, recognizes his own name. He suddenly becomes aware that his cock is so hard it hurts.

For Haru, it’s as if the sounds of the building have faded away to a muted background hum and his body is moving in slow motion. The first moment he feels the sensation of being watched, the fine hairs on his body rise, and when he locks gazes with Asami-sama everything seems to stand still. Only his heart pumps faster and harder in surprise and wonder, and he breathes out the name of the man poised above him.

The peculiar expression on Asami-sama’s face intrigues Haru, makes his stomach flutter because he’s not sure quite what to make of it, but, oh, it’s compelling and fascinating, and Haru is drawn to it with a fierce curiosity and longing that makes his chest ache.

But he recognizes when Asami’s expression changes subtly. It’s like a beacon to  him , though, when Asami’s stance shifts slightly and his features sharpen. Haru gasps softly. He knows what  that look means.

The instantaneous response of his own body makes him blush. Beneath his clothes, his skin pebbles as an almost imperceptible shudder sweeps over him. His groin tightens and throbs, his breath catches in his throat, and his fingers curl over the cuffs of his sleeves.

Did he really come here for me? Haru can’t help asking the question, though why else  would  he come here? The idea thrills him, fills him with a sense of bubbling happiness that he can hardly contain.

In the warm afternoon light bathing the upper floor, Asami-sama looks even more impossibly gorgeous than usual. God-like even. Impeccably dressed in a bespoke suit that adorns his tall, exquisitely toned body perfectly, Asami-sama draws attention from everyone around him. The sunlight brings out the shine in his dark, thick hair. His elegant, masculine features and his air of assurance and command enhance his charisma and the innate magnetism he exudes.

Haru is certainly irresistibly drawn to him. He moves away from his work area. It’s already tidy because he always keeps it that way, even when he’s working, and he was almost done for the day anyway. It wouldn’t matter if he wasn’t. His feet take him to the stairs, his eyes still locked on Asami-sama. He has eyes for nothing else.

His pulse races faster and faster as he ascends, until he feels almost light-headed when he reaches the top and only a few meters remain between them.  Asami straightens and turns to him as Haru crosses the distance.  Up close, he’s even more mesmerizing. Asami’s eyes alone are capable of reducing Haru to a variety of emotional and physical states. The expression in them right now is certainly doing nothing to calm his anticipation.

“Asami-sama…” Haru greets him almost shyly, though he can’t contain his pleasure and wonder. It spills out in a bright, adoring smile. “Is everything all right? Did you come here to see  me ?”

Asami smiles back in response. It’s impossible not to. Lately he finds himself losing control of his usual sardonic smirk more often than not and just grinning like a fool. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment he lost all control of his tidy, organized, controlled life. He’s pretty sure it began the day a cheeky reporter jumped off the roof of his building and was wrapped the hell up the day this sweet-faced lovely boy stuck out his stubborn little pointed chin and dared Asami to make him cry.

“I did,” he replies. “Have you nearly finished your work for today?”

Haru nods.

“I’d like to see your project, if you’d show it to me?” Asami startles himself by sounding almost shy when he asks. Somehow Haru’s work seems almost sacrosanct, and he’s hesitant to ask, as though he might be intruding on something he’s not supposed to be part of. He frowns a little at himself and shakes his head slightly. Haru doesn’t notice, beaming up at him when he asks.

“Of course,” he says softly, and leads the way down to the staging floor.

He really only hears about half of what Haru is saying as he explains the project to Asami. He’s too fascinated by the passion lighting his boy’s face. He’s never had a passion for his work. Drive, certainly. Motivation. A hunger for power. The will to win. But nothing like this impassioned, almost loving demonstration. The look on Haru’s face isn’t quite as joyful as it is when he knows Asami is pleased with him, but it is very close.

The tiny details of the piece are marvellous in design. He’s seen his share of architectural models, as he’s overseen the construction of his share of buildings (most of which he owns), but nothing as perfect of this. Haru has included every aspect, down to tiny door handles and landscaping, little benches and sidewalks, trash receptacles, a newspaper vending machine. Asami even sees a miniscule bird’s nest in one of the tiny trees.

“It’s incredible, Haruki,” he murmurs into Haru’s ear. They’re speaking in hushed whispers out of respect for the couple of other students working on the staging floor. None of them are particularly close by, but the intensity with which everyone works seems to give the room a museum-quality hush. Haru’s ears turn pink with pleasure. Asami puts his hand on the boy’s shoulder and leans even closer, his voice no more than a tiny breath of sound. “I want very badly to kiss you right now,” he whispers. “I did come to take you to lunch. Now I find I’m very hungry, my sweet boy, but not for food. I’m going to have you, today. I’d be having you right now if we were alone.” Haru whimpers. Asami’s lips curve into a filthy smile against the delicate shell of his ear as he continues. “There’s a part of me that doesn’t even care if these people saw me bend you over one of those empty tables and take what’s mine. I won’t...but if you’re not in the limo in under seven minutes, I’m going to come looking for you, and you’re going to provide anyone who’s about with a lovely show when I take off my belt and blister your perfect little round ass for you. We’re parked in front of Administration.  Don’t  keep me waiting, Haruki.”

He steps back, turns on his heel, and strolls away with one hand casually in his pants pocket. He understands that Haru may have supplies to put away, other duties to fulfill or belongings to collect. He can be reasonable. For seven minutes anyway. His face is pleasantly calm, but his thoughts are anything but. Inside his pocket, he presses the heel of his hand against his insistently throbbing erection. He hopes Haru’s up for a bit of a rough ride.

 

If Haru’s knees weren’t feeling a little too wobbly to trust, he might embarrass himself by throwing himself after Asami, and be damned with cleaning up.  As it is, he watches until Asami is out of sight before he can bring himself to turn to his work table.

Asami’s threat is both alarming and extremely arousing. Not that he  really thinks Asami-sama would do that here. But he  could , if he wanted to. Even the merest whiff of possibility sends Haru’s pulse and imagination racing. Even more thrilling is the reality of what’s going to happen in less than seven minutes.

Asami wants him; he wants him right now. His ear burns where Asami-sama’s lips brushed, as if those ardent words have seared right into his skin.

Haru fumbles with the tiny glue cap with shaky hands, uncharacteristically clumsy, but manages to seal the tube. He puts all his supplies in a bin and carefully carries his project to a storage cabinet for safekeeping. This takes him a couple of minutes, but he grabs his bag and manages to walk sedately out of the building.

Once outside, he sweeps a look around the quad, but Asami is nowhere in sight. Haru takes off running as fast as he can toward the drive in front of the Administration building, dodging a couple playing Frisbee as he sprints across the manicured lawn. He sees the limo parked discreetly at the far curve of the oblong loop, or at least as discreetly as a limo can be, and Suoh standing beside it.

Without a thought to how eager he appears, Haru rushes up and breathes heavily as he bobs a quick bow, and then, with a cheeky grin, signs ‘hello’ to Suoh just like Sami taught him.

Unfazed, Suoh returns the greeting in kind and moves to open the door, and Haru’s attention becomes riveted once again by Asami, who sits casually against one of the long leather seats, one leg crossed over the other. A cigarette burns between his fingers, and he takes a drag just as he turns his molten eyes on Haru.

His cheeks hollow, and then his well-shaped lips purse slightly as he exhales a white stream of smoke. Haru’s eyes drink in the tiny changes.

“Get in the car, Haruki,” Asami says softly, but his elegant baritone can’t disguise the rough pitch of command, and Haru climbs in immediately, sliding onto the seat next to Asami.

The door closes behind him, and Haru lifts his chin, meeting Asami’s gaze. His heart pounds wildly because he doesn’t know what to expect—a kiss, the belt, a quick, hard fuck, or maybe a lunch date after all—but also simply because he’s  here with  Asami-sama , and that startling, wonderful fact still amazes him.

The man is too perfect to be real, in so many ways. Sometimes Haru thinks he got conked on the head during a subway ride or something, and he’s hallucinating the whole thing from some hospital bed.

“What are you thinking, Haru-kun?”

Asami-sama’s voice startles him, and Haru realizes that he’s been staring unabashedly for several seconds.

He blushes and ducks his chin. “Nothing, Asami-sama. Just…I’m really glad you came.”

 

“Mm,” says Asami consideringly, tossing his cigarette out the window and rolling it up. “I don’t think that’s completely honest, little boy. You’re wondering what I’m going to do to you.” He smiles fiercely at Haru’s breathless nod and leans forward a bit. His hand flashes out quick as thought and grasps Haru’s arm, yanking him bodily across the long leather seat. He pulls the boy roughly into his lap and captures his startled gasp with his mouth. Asami doesn’t kiss him so much as he devours Haru’s mouth, his tongue sweeping in to possess, sharp white teeth nipping sharply enough to elicit a tiny hungered pain sound and to leave his boy’s bottom lip swollen. His long fingers slide through Haru’s silky hair and close into a fist, holding his head captive, controlling every aspect of the kiss from start to finish. His other hand yanks the conservatively dressed young grad student’s shirt out of his pants, his warm palm skimming up Haru’s side. Deft fingers stroke a small pink nipple, which pebbles under his touch. Asami growls softly and then pinches the sensitive little nub between his index finger and thumb, gradually squeezing more tightly until Haru cries out softly into the kiss.

Suddenly impossibly annoyed with how little of Haru’s skin he can touch at once, Asami lets go of his hair and rips the offending shirt open down the front, sending buttons pinging off leather, glass and burled walnut.

“I’ll buy you another one. A dozen,” he mutters by way of apology.

The car starts to move. Asami waits to begin unveiling more of his prize until they’ve left the campus behind. Bending his head to lick and then to suck deeply at Haru’s other nipple, he reaches between them to open his grey slacks, lifting Haru effortlessly with one arm to sweep his pants over his hips and down his legs, where they hang on his shoes. He looks up into Haru’s face, his tiger eyes burning hot with mindless hunger.

“Off,” he snarls, “or I’m going to cut it all off you.”

Fortunately, Haru doesn’t seem to have a great deal of objection to helping Asami get his clothes off. Or at least out of the way. His ears and cheeks are flushed with a combination of what Asami suspects is embarrassment and arousal. There is, after all, someone else in the front of the car. Not that Suoh can hear or see anything with the privacy screen raised. It is likely more Haru’s realization that Suoh probably knows exactly what’s happening in the back of the limo that is making him blush.  He glances down and smirks a bit. Spot on about the arousal. Not that Haru has ever been anything but helplessly wanton when Asami touches him. His fingers curl around his boy’s pretty cock and he licks delicately at the rim of one ear, then purrs lasciviously,

“Ohh Haru. The things I’m going to do to you…”

 

A soft, thick sound catches in Haru’s throat. He makes quick work of his shoes and socks and kicks his slacks away before turning toward Asami a gaze dark with the utter willingness to give himself over to  anything Asami-sama wants. The flagrant hunger and impatient aggression Asami has displayed evokes his most deeply lodged submissive instincts, and he struggles with the intense need to convey the swell of these overwhelming urges that possess him.

But he has no idea how to vocalize the measure of his surrender to this man.  It would probably be too excruciating to even try. His pink tongue darts out to wet his lips, though, and he inhales deeply as Asami’s intimate touch even now makes him shudder.   

“Asami-sama…” he manages to say.  

He hesitates, his tongue tying itself up in knots, and then he simply slips to his knees at Asami’s feet. The scratchy fibers of the limo carpeting are rough against his knees, but Haru hardly notices. “I…” His words fail him again, so he tenderly lifts the hand that rests on Asami’s thigh, the same one that was just wrapped around his cock in possessive promise.

He cradles Asami’s warm, strong hand in both of his own, and his lips press softly against the knuckles.  He knows Asami-sama already has the right to do as he pleases with him. That isn’t what he’s trying so inelegantly to convey. Rather, it’s simply how much he  feels it, how much he  desires it, and just how far he’s willing to be taken.  His subjection to Asami-sama brings such a deep fulfillment, and such a compulsion to please that sometimes Haru doesn’t know what to do with it. His inexperience makes him feel clumsy and unsure, but his heart bids him to speak.

“Anything you want, Asami-sama,” he says softly, inadequately, as a slow flush paints his skin. “I…I’m yours. Completely.”

 

The words hit Asami like a hard punch to the gut, knocking the very air from his lungs.  He turns the hand Haru cradles so reverently and cups his cheek gently, his thumb brushing Haru’s high, straight cheekbone. Haru turns his face into the caress and kisses the pulse in Asami’s wrist that beats thick and hard. Asami hums a quiet sound of pleasure.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his free hand unbuckles his belt. He chuckles softly at the way Haru’s eyes follow his movement, pupils dilating, breath coming quicker and faster. “I don’t mean to use it on you,” he says, his voice rough with his own desire, a sound to which he is relatively unused, as he usually keeps his own need closer to his vest and on a tight rein. “But if you want it, I won’t refuse you. I want to feel your mouth on me. I want to watch you. You don’t know, Haru...you  can’t…. what your words mean to me. I want what you said, my beautiful boy. I want you to be mine completely. I’d choose you if you hadn’t thrown your challenge in my face. I hope you’ve thought about what you just said, because I don’t intend to let you go.” He thumbs open the button on his slacks and slides the zipper down, reaching inside and pulling his cock free. He sighs a little in relief at the lessening of the constriction. His fingertips lightly stroke his length, his thumb rubbing lazily over the head, smearing the clear fluid there. Haru’s eyes flick from his belt to the motion of his hand. He’d meant to drag his pretty little pet into the back of the limo and use him quick and hard and dirty, but he’s changed his mind. Haru has changed his mind. What’s happening here now is more important than a quick fuck in the backseat of a car.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he continues, not sure at all why he’s revealing so much to Haru right now, wondering if perhaps he’s lost his mind, but he can’t make himself keep the words to himself, not with the gift that’s just been laid at his feet and the treasure that sits at them now, gazing up at him with the world in his eyes. A world he’d lay at Asami’s feet. “You shine, Haru. Your work is brilliant. I’d assumed you were good at your chosen field, or why pursue a graduate degree, but I had no idea how gifted you really are. You’ll be able to write your own meal ticket Haru. Companies will fight tooth and nail to have a shot at your talent. There is no reason a man with your gift should kneel for anyone. That you do...that you give it to  me… ” He shakes his head a little. “I’m not a nice man. I have done some terrible things. I’ve tried to only do them to people who deserved it, but I know better than to claim I’ve always succeeded. I’m a selfish, black-souled bastard and there are times I think I can nearly see the smut I’m afraid I leave behind when I try to touch you and Akihito’s light. I don’t know why I’m saying this to you. I think I want you to stop looking at me like I’m doing you a fucking favor, like you don’t deserve it. You are ten times the man I’ll ever be, Ito Haruki. It’s I who don’t deserve what you’d give me. But I want it. I want it, and I’ll take it, and I’ll keep you. Give me your mouth, sweet boy, because I wish it. If you want the leather before I take you, you’ll have it. Whatever you want. But then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember your own name. Only mine. I’ll touch you any way you like. Just tell me what you want.”

Voices in his head clamor at him to stop, that he is mad to reveal so much, to give another this kind of power over him, that it will come back to bite him, that he shouldn’t trust anyone so. He ignores them. He realizes as he speaks that he trusts Haru in a way he only trusts one other person. With his damaged, twisted train wreck of a heart, where Haru has written his name indelibly, by giving his own to Asami without strings, without second thoughts, without hesitation.

 

If he wasn't completely lost before, he is now. Asami's astonishing praise, his shocking candor shake Haru to the core and fill him with such an incandescent happiness that he's sure it must radiate from his pores with the pure force of it.

From it, he draws a confidence he didn't know he was capable of.

"My...my master's soul isn't black." Haru's eyes shine up at Asami, and shy grin slants his mouth. "Maybe it's a little spotted, I don't know. But what I see is strong and bright and steady. I'm p roud to be yours."

His slender body slips between Asami's spread knees, and Haru's eyes flutter closed when his lips caress the slick head of Asami's cock. He breathes in Asami's scent, lets his taste spread over his tongue as he sweeps it over the silky skin, reveling in the primal thrill of being marked by both.

Asami's hand slides into his hair, and Haru moans. His cheeks hollow, jaws stretching around the girth that will soon be splitting him in two.

His own cock throbs, a surge of expectant lust heating his belly. Haru feels his own vulnerability, his submission, naked at Asami-sama's feet. It's a heady, drugging pleasure, and Haru's body responds instinctively with the urge to spread his thighs wider, to arch his wanton hips, and to open his throat deeper to the thick column of Asami's cock.

He moans again, and the fingers in his hair tighten as he does his best to fulfill Asami's desire; his fledgling abilities bolstered by the lavish, worshipful attention of his lips and tongue.

His eyes are dazed and dilated when his head is finally tugged back. Asami's diamond-hard erection slides out of his mouth with a wet sound.

Asami's eyes burn into his, and a shiver of raw desire sweeps Haru. "Oh, please, Asami-sama, the belt first?" His voice trembles a little with the force of his need. He can  never get enough of all the ways Asami-sama can mark him, nor stop craving the white-hot pain of his ownership.

 

His blood pounds so hard in his head that he has to stop and think to form words. Haru’s not on drugs of any kind this time, nothing forces him to use the title Asami craves from his lips. He lifts the boy from the limo’s floor to straddle his thighs. One hand tugs Haru’s head down for another kiss while the other slowly pulls his belt through its loops until it slithers free.

“It’s a good thing you’re not a greedy little brat,” he says in a low voice, amused and self-deprecating. “Because I can refuse you nothing.” He helps Haru arrange himself comfortably over his lap, face-down, with his pert little backside propped up in the air. His fingertips softly stroke creamy skin, trace the round curves of Haru’s ass, drift soft as a sigh between slightly splayed thighs, nudging them further apart. His index finger dips between Haru’s cheeks to tickle and tease at the little pucker of his asshole. Then he reaches between the boy’s legs again and strokes his  testicles with the barest hint of a caress. Haru lets out little whimpers and moans as Asami touches him, spreading his legs wider and lifting his hips into Asami’s touch. “Ah, but then you are greedy for some things, aren’t you, dirty little boy?”

He grips the buckle of his belt and wraps it several times around his fist, only leaving about a foot of it dangling. For one thing, he doesn’t have as much room to swing inside the limo. For another, he has no intention of making this a terrible ordeal. He spanks Haru’s bare skin a few times with his hand, sharp but not terribly hard spanks. This is met with a moan of deep approval and an eager little wriggle. Laughing softly, he lifts the belt and brings it down across the swell of Haru’s backside. The leather sounds louder than usual inside the smaller space of the limo’s passenger compartment. Much louder than it is forceful. He’s not even remotely annoyed with Haru. Is in fact closer to saying things to him he knows intellectually he should put off at least a little longer. No, this is a spanking purely for Haru’s pleasure, and his own.

Very slowly, he lays down stroke after stroke across his lovely little pet’s bare skin. Haru pants and whimpers and cries out hungrily. He squirms in Asami’s lap, which doesn’t help the state of his arousal at all. He doesn’t care. He builds the heat a little at a time, slowly reddening Haru’s upturned ass and the very tops of his thighs. He isn’t goal oriented. He thinks he could probably do this for the rest of the day, if only Haru will keep making those delightfully wanton little noises. He’s still painfully erect, but all his focus is now on the boy in his lap and not on his own need. Well, that’s not entirely true. It’s merely that his need has shifted. He needs Haru to be a filthy, needy mess. When his boy’s cheeks are a nice even deep rosy color, he sets the belt down and uses his hand again. He rains down spank after spank, quick and stinging blows, snapping his wrist so that the considerable strength of his arm doesn’t impart more pain than he intends, or bruise such tender flesh. After he’s peppered Haru’s entire bottom and down to mid-thigh with hot slaps, he slows the speed of the spanking. Between sharp little stings, he softly strokes and teases between Haru’s legs or between his cheeks. He’s always been glad he’s ambidextrous, but never more than at times like this when he can reach inside his inner coat pocket for a tiny vial of lubricant. He grins and huffs out a soft laugh when Haru scents it after he’s taken off the cap. His reaction is positively Pavlovian to Asami’s custom-made brand of personal lubricant. Asami feels the cock against his thigh pulse, and Haru groans hungrily, lifting his hips in a wordless plea.

“You are so marvellous to me, sweet boy,” says Asami softly, tracing one slick finger up the crack of Haru’s backside to swirl around his hole. “So eager, so expressive. I’m glad you don’t hide your sounds or your pleasure from me. It pleases me to know my touch arouses you so that you cannot hold it inside.”

He presses his finger into Haru’s warm body and resumes spanking him with the other. Slowly and gently, Asami fingers his tight little hole, spanking a little harder now. Adding a second finger, he picks the belt up once more and hardly misses a beat before he is strapping Haru on the undersides of his cheeks and the tops his his thighs, to avoid hitting his own hand while he slowly coaxes his boy’s body to open.

 

Whatever tiny threads of restraint Haru has managed to retain until this point completely unravel when Asami’s fingers begin working him open. The delicious, pleasurable heat that Asami has layered onto his bare bottom and his thighs combined with it is almost  too good. He’s in imminent danger of spilling his seed all over Asami’s  slacks, but he can’t stop the hitch and roll of his hips, shamelessly rubbing his aching erection against Asami’s legs.

Each snap of the belt across his flesh calls forth an answering throbbing ache between his legs, and Haru writhes with it. Asami’s deft fingers make him gasp and groan, and Haru  is greedy, terribly greedy, because he wants even more. He wants desperately the taking Asami-sama promised.

“Please…please…Asami-sama.” His hips arch high, and he twists his neck, looking up at Asami in supplication.

 

Asami makes a frustrated sound as he tries to drop the belt and it’s still wrapped around his hand. Shaking it free, he picks Haru up and sits him on his lap, straddling his hips, the boy’s slender thighs spread wide. This is the point where he’d normally spin him around and spear him from behind, using his hands and sharp thrusts of his hips to make Haru ride him, perhaps allowing the boy to crane his head around for a kiss.

That’s not what he wants now. He shrugs out of his coat and vest. Haru makes fast work of his tie. A quick study, this one. Asami’s lips quirk in a smile that isn’t entirely sane.

“Unbutton my shirt,” he mutters, mouth pressed to the sender pale column of Haru’s throat, teeth scraping skin. As busy fingers obey him instantly, he reaches between them to adjust his cock a little, slides down in the seat a bit more. His hands grasp Haru’s hips, thumbs stroking his hip bones, then they slide around behind to cup the burning hot cheeks of his ass, pulling them apart. His fingers reach between, seeking, probing, then sinking inside, stretching Haru open wider. It makes his little lover cry out at the sting, but he finishes unbuttoning Asami’s shirt, folding it back, pushing it off his shoulders. Asami doesn’t have to explain himself to anyone. Hasn’t for years. Fucking his toys in the back of his limo, stripping them of their clothing and their dignity, rendering them helpless and hungry and desperate, taking them at his pleasure while he remains controlled has always been a pastime he’s enjoyed. The contrast of remaining impeccably dressed and groomed while he wrecks their composure...it has amused him many times. These thoughts swirl in his head as he bites Haru’s collarbone and probes his tight little hole and he doesn’t know what to DO with them. Maintaining his distance has been his practice for so long that he literally feels that his jaw is rusted shut when he tries to open it to explain. And yet in spite of that, he feels that Haru has earned honesty. He sighs and leans his forehead against Haru’s shoulder.

“A...Asami-sama?” asks the boy hesitantly, sounding worried.

“I wanted to feel your skin on mine,” he says softly. It feels strange to say the words. Uncomfortable. As though he is revealing more than he intends to. The words would shock Akihito a little, but he wouldn’t comment on it. Haru just shudders and his hands roam over Asami’s chest and abs, drifting lower, close to where his cock is pressed between their bodies. Asami gropes for the little vial. Finding it, he takes Haru’s hand and presses it into his palm.  “Put it on me,” he mutters, his voice a deep bass growl.

 

Haru’s eyes widen. Asami has never permitted him this before. The novelty of the act is arousing in a way that Haru could never have anticipated. The scent of the lubricant blooms thick and strong as Haru pours a little into his cupped palm and then rubs both his hands together to coat them both.

His delicate fingers make a striking contrast to the dark red shaft they circle and stroke. He makes it glisten with the fragrant oil, and then his gaze is irresistibly drawn to Asami’s face. The uncharacteristic flicker of expression both captivates and shakes him.

A strange sort of tenderness throbs in his chest, almost a protectiveness that he can’t quite decipher, and he leans forward, nuzzling his cheek against Asami’s throat, desiring to give his master the contact he seems to wish. He draws his own comfort from it, relishing the warmth and closeness of the unexpected but far from unwelcome interlude.

His lips find the hard throb of Asami’s pulse and press softly, not even a real kiss; he just wants to feel the rhythm of its beat. Asami’s cock feels impossibly hard and hot in Haru’s hand, and it jerks in his grip when Haru glides moist fingertips over the head, dipping into the slit.

Some impulse makes him raise his head and lift his fingers to his mouth. The faint spice and vanilla of the lubricant mix with Asami’s unique taste, and Haru moans softly, his eyes locked with Asami’s.

 

Asami closes his eyes for a moment at the flush of heat washing over him as Haru’s slender fingers touch him gently, but opens them again almost immediately, returning Haru’s mesmerized gaze. His eyes do not waver As his strong hands grip Haruki’s hips and urge him up onto his knees, he lets go with one hand, reaching between them to encircle his engorged prick, lining it up with his boy’s slick, softened entrance. Haru doesn’t flinch, doesn’t close his eyes when Asami starts to guide him slowly down onto his thick cock.

He’d planned to rush this part a little, his desire to just be IN Haru overriding all else, but that’s not good enough now. One arm holds Haru steady, supporting some of his weight by wrapping around the young man’s waist, while the other slides into his hair again and tugs his head down coaxingly for a kiss. Haru moans wantonly into his mouth. Asami hums contentedly and deepens the kiss. He sucks softly on Haru’s bottom lip, then his tongue.

“So beautiful,” he says softly, breaking the kiss but staying in position to resume it at any moment, their lips almost brushing. “I wonder if you know how beautiful you are? I want to be inside you, Haru. Part of me wants nothing more than to slam my cock up into you to the hilt with one vicious shove. You’d take it, if that was what I decided, wouldn’t you, Haru-kun? More than take it. You’d love it, even if it hurt you. I’ve changed my mind about that as well. Take me inside,  Haru. I want to watch your face while you lower yourself all the way down, right to the hilt.”

 

Haru exhales shakily and sinks his hips slowly lower until the thick head of Asami’s cock pops through the tight ring of muscle. The silky flesh of his hole sucks tightly to hard flesh splitting him. It takes his breath away. Asami’s chest is smooth and warm beneath his palms, and Haru braces himself on the solid body beneath him and works himself lower.

He pushes himself, not allowing for time to adjust because Asami’s words entrance him, fill him with the desire to take all, embracing fully this physical act of surrender. His thighs tremble, straining with the effort to support his weight as he controls the descent. Even so carefully prepared, Asami-sama’s girth makes it impossible  not to burn. The stretch is intense and leaves Haru gasping. His expression flickers and his lips part on a quiet groan. He can feel the whisper-soft flutter of his lashes against his cheek bones with each infinitesimal measure gained.

It’s exquisitely good.

An answering heat blooms low in his belly; his balls tighten and his own erection bobs achingly between his legs as he finally fully seats himself to the hilt of Asami’s cock.

Asami’s heated gaze never leaves his face, their lips still almost touching. The tight hand in his hair keeps him close, and Haru whimpers as he feels the thick cock inside him pulse.

“Asami-sama…” Asami’s eyes still reveal that startling openness that makes Haru’s blood sing. He reaches up, and his fingertips reverently brush the aquiline lines of Asami-sama’s face.   He looks at Haru like he’s drinking him.

But Asami-sama is the beautiful one , Haru thinks with fervent conviction.

 

“Good boy,” whispers Asami. Pleasure fires his blood, liquid heat pooling in his belly. Avidly, his amber gaze takes in the expressions on Haru’s face as he takes Asami into his slender body. Does it make him a monster that he soaks up the flicker of pain in those lovely eyes? That he can see the hurt of it written on his face and in the trembling tension of his limbs...and he likes it. Bravely, Haru rides the burning stretch all the way in one slow slide, taking Asami balls-deep despite the sting, despite the ache of it. The silky heat of his tight little hole clenches and flutters around him. No matter how many times they do this, no matter how often he pries open the warm, snug confines of his boys’ lithe bodies, he still marvels at how indescribably good it feels. Like no other lover he’s ever had (and there have been many), he is captivated by the intense pleasure of being buried inside them.

Haru gasps and lets out a happy little whine at Asami’s soft praise. His fingers dig into the solid muscle of Asami’s chest and he hums a soft growl at the small sting of his boy’s blunt nails on his skin. Sitting up a little, he wraps his arms around Haru’s slim body and lifts him slowly, sucking in a harsh breath at the way Haru’s asshole grips at his cock, as if trying to keep him deep inside. Oh, but he has no intention of going anywhere. He holds the boy steady, their bodies pressed close together, a hairsbreadth away from the point where the head of his cock would pop free of the tight little hole embracing him inside such exquisite, velvety heat. Slowly, he rolls his hips. Haru moans when the blunt head of Asami’s cock glides over the small cluster of sensitive nerve endings inside his body. It throws the young man’s head back and his hands to clench into fists. Asami grins fiercely. Lust claws at his insides, crawls up his spine. Part of his would like nothing more than to rut mindlessly up into Haru’s body, take his pleasure of the boy in spite of Haru’s own. It might silence the strange thoughts and feelings he’s revealing so recklessly today. So dangerous.

Why? Asks the voice inside him, the one which would have him cherish and care for this beautiful boy’s gift of submission, would have him nurture and protect, would require so much more of him than simply staking his claim. Why is it dangerous? There are no strings attached to this boy’s gift. Haruki’s submission is unfeigned and unconditional. Don’t be an ass.

His arms tighten around Haru, and he presses his face to the boy’s exposed throat.

“Mine,” he whispers, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of Haru’s skin. He rocks his hips back, slowly withdrawing, dragging his cock from the tight embrace of Haru’s body. “Mine,” he mutters again, pressing a kiss to the throbbing pulse under his boy’s jaw, making Haru shudder. He rolls his hips upwards, filling Haru slowly once more, and hears his name from kiss-swollen lips on a trembling sigh. Another long, slow slide back and then, “ Mine, ” he snarls, teeth scraping soft skin and then biting at the tendon along the side of Haru’s neck, deep enough to leave a bruise there, and thrusts up sharply into Haru’s ass, deeper than before.

Haru cries out, but his hands curl around the back of Asami’s neck, and his throat arches, exposing even more of that tender flesh to Asami’ teeth.

“ Ngh… ” His hole stings, stretches and gives way again and again to the spearing thrusts.

His arousal burns hotter, each growled claim branding him deep inside, and making him shudder with an almost decadent  pleasure. His slim body writhes helplessly, contained only by the iron grip of his lover.

“Master,” he breathes, acknowledging Asami’s ownership with a hoarse whisper.

 

Asami has been called “Master” before. Until today, the times it had given him the most pleasure had been the day his Trainer told him he’d earned the title, and when, in recognition of that declaration, other Dominants had addressed him as such. On the club circuit, there are cities around the world where a small but elite community all know one another and tend to set standards for everyone else to follow.

His name is on that list, and as such, he is often recognized when he visits a local club or dungeon. He hasn’t done that in a long time, but for years he has been used to every submissive he meets in those establishments also calling him Master. Some of them do indeed recognize some of what he’s been through to earn the title. Others have seemed to sense enough of the power in him to offer it to him out of respect. A very few have come to him at the request of a friend, to be trained by him in serving a Master, and he has sent them...the sincere ones anyway...home to their Master, Mistresses and lovers with new skill sets and no regret, for he has never grown attached to another Dominant’s property.

To most it’s just a word, and they cast it about as casually as they would words with much less meaning, like “telephone” or “pencil.” The final group of individuals who have called him Master over the years are the ones he likes the least. They are the ones who know enough of his financial situation to be aware that he’s very, very rich. The ones whose sole intention is to become a wealthy man’s spoiled, pampered pet. Who believe they can get by on looks alone and that all that should be expected of them is to take off their clothes and look pretty while being fucked. How they fawn over him, simpering and offering him lip service with no substance, promising to be such a good slave that he’ll want to keep them forever, that they are well-trained and will obey him in all things and will live only to please him.

Once or twice when he was bored, he’s taken one of these away for a short “trial” as his way of considering them for a personal pet. It would entertain him vastly to put them to work, pressing his shirts and slacks, polishing his shoes, washing his car, cleaning up invisible specks of dust on the furniture in one of his many properties in various cities. He’s never brought one of them to his real home before. Almost without fail, within less than two hours, they’d fail to complete a task, or grow bored and frustrated. Upon being informed that they’d have to be punished, most would smile at him with sly, knowing smiles and expect a little game of pat-a-cake on their pretty bottoms or a rigorous fucking to teach them their place. He never struck a single one of them with a tenth of the force he uses on Haru, and without exception, it sent them running as fast as their legs could carry them, some of them calling him every name in the book.

Being called Master has given him pride, amusement, annoyance and even occasionally real anger. Until now, it has never fed his soul. He’s known that this is one of the things he’s sought his whole life, but had all but given up on finding it. Is honestly content with the fact that he’s Akihito’s even though he’s almost positive the term will always freak his feisty little pet out too badly for him to acknowledge it. When Haruki calls him Master, Asami’s breath is swept away by the intensity of feeling that threatens to swamp him. He expects to respond as he usually does, with intensely rigorous fucking that leaves Haru wrecked and him satisfied that he’s staked his claim yet again.

Except that’s not what happens.

He takes Haru’s hands and places them on his shoulders.

“Hold yourself up for me,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. Haru looks bewildered, but plants his knees beside Asami’s hips and braces his hands on Asami’s broad shoulders. Carefully, Asami presses he cock up into the heat of Haru’s body, angling his thrusts just so, each one designed to bring the most pleasure. He stares up into Haru’s eyes, his face, almost fey-like in its beauty, his mouth open as he gasps and pants and moans softly, lips forming the word even though the only sounds he makes are helpless need.

Asami reaches between their bodies and his fingers curl around Haru’s erection, squeezing gently, rubbing his thumb over the smooth, rounded head, slick with Haru’s passion. Haru cries out and shudders, hips working, his snug little hole clenching tighter around Asami’s cock. He watches avidly as passion and emotions wash over Haru’s mobile features, as his eyes go blurry and almost black with need.

“Haru,” he breathes, his other hand lifting so that his fingers can trace the delicate lines of his boy’s face. Haru whines softly in the back of his throat and turns his head to kiss Asami’s fingertips. “My boy. My good boy. I want to watch you, want to see you lost in what I give you, the heat, the pleasure. You’re mine,” he murmurs.

 

The gentleness undoes Haru in a way that’s completely different from his unraveling when Asami takes him forcefully. This overwhelming, burgeoning pleasure that Asami draws from his body, pure and uncut, evokes a passionate, helpless response that Haru can’t begin to restrain.

Asami’s intoxicating words make Haru drunk with want, and a choked sob lodges in his throat. He tries to fight it, tries to ride out the dizzying wave of bliss, because he wants to keep looking into Asami-sama’s naked eyes. He wants to hear those words again and again. It feels  so good. This unexpected tenderness rocks him to the core, makes his chest constrict and his stomach flutter madly.

As Asami’s cock slides with careful, sweet precision into Haru’s tight, hungry little hole and his hand wrings raw, wanton moans from his lips, Haru can do nothing but pant out those pained-sounding little cries and hold onto Asami for dear life. He tosses his head back and he shudders, bucking in Asami’s hold.

“Oh... oh , Asami-sama…” The long, breathless cry lasts for several seconds, his come surges over Asami’s fist, splatters onto his sculpted chest. His legs tremble, but Haru’s hips keep rocking up and down, his hole convulsing rhythmically around Asami’s thick erection. He moves his hands feverishly over Asami’s skin, touching, grounding himself, digging into the hard muscle, while pressing fervent, hot kisses to his throat and jaw. “Master...master…” he whispers almost incoherently. “I...I love…” Haru’s heads dips down and settles in the curve of Asami’s throat and shoulder, and his nails dig compulsively into the flesh of his back. “ Oh , I love being yours. Teach me. Please teach me everything. How to be your good boy. Everything you want.  Please , Master.”

 

Asami brings his fingers to his lips and tastes Haru’s essence, grinning a little at his shocked expression.

“Mm. So sweet. Yes, Haru. If it’s what you want, I’ll teach you. Teach you everything. Train you, refine you, reveal to you your inner strength and when I am done, you’ll know how valuable you are. When I take you to one of the  right  kind of fetish clubs, you will walk in on my arm with your head held high because you’ll know you put every other sub and slave and beloved pet there to shame. If you’re sure it’s what you want, then I’ll give it to you.”

“I’m sure,” whispers Haru into the crux of Asami’s neck and shoulder.

“Here’s the first lesson, Haru-kun,” he purrs, wicked delight in his voice. Haru has handed him his oldest wish, all wrapped in the shiny packaging that is his boy’s bright light. So quickly it probably makes Haru’s head spin, he pulls the slim body off his lap, wringing a shocked cry from the still-shuddering boy. He spins him around and bends him over, ordering him curtly to brace himself with his hands on the opposite seat.

“When it comes to your Master, my sweet, beautiful boy, tenderness and brutality are almost never mutually exclusive. Most of the time, they’ll go hand in hand.”

With that, he spreads Haru’s reddened cheeks apart with his thumbs, growling softly in his chest at the sight of his softened, rosy-red little pucker. Before Haru can catch his breath or say a word, he slams his cock back inside. Haru scarcely has time to cry out before he’s being fucked deep and hard, Asami’s hands on his hips holding him steady. He’s overwhelmed, stunned by what Haruki has said, what he’s confessed, and the need to physically stake his claim clamors in his brain once more. He angles his hips, grinding his cock over the boy’s sweet spot with every jarring stab.

“Haru,” he whispers, the uncharacteristic tenderness still there despite his body’s brutal actions. “Oh gods, Haru. I’ll teach you, but you’ll have to promise not to let it change you. You are so damn perfect to me exactly the way you are, because everything….ah….everything about you is honest and pure and true.”

He grits his teeth for a moment and fucks harder.

“Believe me,” he pants, “I love…”

He closes his eyes and throttles down the need for release that pools at the base of his spine. Not yet.

“I love you being mine too.”

He lets go of Haru’s right hip and his fingers stroke gently up the boy’s spine and back down, over his reddened backside and down his thigh, gently petting and steadying the trembling body. Haru’s thighs quiver and his back arches, obedient to Asami’s whim even in his overwrought state. Asami doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow his vicious thrusts, but shows Haru with his words and the soft touches of his fingers that everything he’s said, everything he’s shown Haru today is still true.

 

Haru’s forehead presses against the leather and his back curves in an extreme arch as he lifts his reddened bottom to the rough pounding. He adores this too, the inescapable fusion of pain and pleasure; Asami-sama’s effortless dominion over him.

His master knows how to wring the pleasure from his body better than Haru does himself. He can feel pooling up inside him already, and he knows he’ll be helpless to stave it off when Asami is ready for him to release it. His chest bubbles with elation.

Asami-sama is going to train him. He’s going to teach him how to be  everything he wants in his boy. And he really thinks Haru is worth the trouble, and that he’ll do well. Haru’s chest hitches and his hidden face flickers with the intensity of his emotion. And,  oh , he will, Haru vows to himself fervently. He’ll work so hard to earn his master’s approval. He’ll do everything in his power make Asami-sama proud. And when that day comes,  then ...

His back bows even more when Asami fucks into him hard enough to make him cry out piteously, an unconscious display of submission to the unrelenting thrusts that are making his little hole burn acutely. But each angled, pounding stroke rubs ruthlessly over the bundle of nerves inside him, cruelly sweet, and his vision dots with forewarning of his impending climax.

And then gentle fingers brush the hair away from his ear, and Asami’s warm lips brush the shell, murmuring soft, soothing words. Haru shatters.

“A-Asami...sama...” Haru cries. “I…I’m coming…”

“Mm. No you’re not,” whispers Asami. Haru lets out an anguished wail. “Shh. Breathe. Relax. This is your first lesson.” He stops moving to make it a little easier, knowing that even a single thrust could push the boy past the point of no return. “Your body tenses in anticipation of climax. Relax, Breathe out, let go. Wait. I can teach you how to only come when I give you permission. I don’t expect you to be perfect from the beginning. Force your body to relax, especially this sweet, tight little hole.”

Haru whimpers, but he obeys gamely. He’s nearly sobbing with the effort, and Asami can see how distressed the thought of failure makes him.

“This isn’t a test,” he murmurs softly, his hands gentle on Haru’s hips. “I’m showing you that you can stave off your pleasure. Even for a few seconds. Good boy. See? Now…”

He rolls his hips back very slowly, withdrawing from Haru’s body with great care.

“Now, Haru...my good boy...now  come. ”

As he speaks, he shoves his cock deep. Haru howls and shakes, sobbing as he comes, his slender body wracked with shudders. Asami unlocks his own grip on his control and lets pleasure rip through him, emptying himself into his pet’s body, and doesn’t hold back his expression of his pleasure in Haru either, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips.

“Ah. Hah.  Haru!”   His voice is a deep, rolling growl, his hands clenching tightly around Haru’s slim hips, fingers pressing bruises into fair skin, holding them joined so tightly together there is no telling where he ends and Haru begins, they are one. He should be embarrassed. He hasn’t let pleasure ride him so hard in years, has not felt so exposed in a long time, and yet he can’t seem to bring himself to care.

Haru’s head drops forward, his arms and legs trembling as he tries to hold himself upright, tries to stay where Asami has put him. Asami chuckles a little breathlessly and hauls Haru backwards onto the seat with him, gathering the boy into his arms and pressing a kiss to the side of his sweaty temple.

 

Haru burrows into the embrace, pressing his flushed cheek against Asami’s chest. They’re both rather a sticky mess, but Asami holds him close while Haru’s heart slowly returns to an even beat. Haru’s fingertips whisper over the sculpted lines exposed by Asami’s open shirt. He’s rarely seen Asami so disheveled, and Haru finds it enormously attractive.

Inside, he’s humming with happiness. Asami’s unexpected visit has turned out beyond anything he would have imagined. Haru is bursting to talk it over with Akihito, Akihito will listen and laugh with him, and they’ll giggle over the same things, and Aki will reassure him and hug him, and make him feel like everything is just like it’s supposed to be.

Asami’s fingers card through his hair and tug his face back gently, and Haru realizes a soft smile has spread over his face. Asami doesn’t smile in return, but his thumb brushes over his lower lip, smoothing over the plump flesh.

“Thank you,” Haru murmurs shyly. “For coming to see me.”

Asami’s chest and shoulders shake with a subterranean chuckle that he tries to suppress, and then decides why bother. He laughs softly. Haru giggles. It makes him laugh harder. 

“So now that I’ve completely debauched you, I suppose I should probably feed you. You’ve just burned rather a lot of energy,” he says in amusement. Haru dreamily says something about not being hungry at all just now, and it makes Asami smile into his hair. He’s pretty sure they’re both going to be ravenous very soon. Heartlessly, he slaps Haru sharply on the ass to get him moving.

Haru yelps, and scrambles off Asami’s lap. “I guess I am hungry after all,” he says with a cheeky grin.

He crawls across the seat to grab his crumpled slacks and underwear. By the time he manages to get them back on and locate his socks and pull those on too, Asami-sama has managed clean himself up and do up his clothes, and except for his tie, which hangs loosely around his collar, he looks almost as pristine as when Haru first saw him today.

He looks at Haru with amusement when he picks up his shirt and realizes that there’s no way he can wear this out to a restaurant.

“I guess we’ll be eating in,” Haru says with a wry quirk of his mouth. He looks toward the front of the car, though it’s blocked by the divider, and a sudden blush stains his cheeks bright red.

Where has Suoh been driving this whole time? Asami-sama hadn’t told him where to go, had he? Had he just been driving around in circles while they…

Haru resists the urge to bury his face in his ruined shirt and groan.  Oh, well.  It’s not like Suoh hasn’t seen him turned over Asami-sama’s lap before. And Akihito had said he’d get used to the idea of Asami’s men knowing he was doing ‘perverted to things to them’ every chance he got.

Haru can only hope that the divider provides adequate sound proofing as well because the thought of anyone hearing the sounds Asami-sama causes  is embarrassing. Not that he’s complaining.

He pulls on his shirt and buttons the two buttons that remain but do nothing to cover most of his chest and stomach. Haru sighs. If he were Asami-sama, he could pull this off and make it look like the latest, coolest fashion.

Asami hides his amusement at the chagrin on Haru’s face as he tries to salvage his shirt. He has a momentary mental flash of him tying the thing around him like a slutty Daisy Duke halter top and almost snorts with laughter. He rolls his eyes and drags Haru onto his lap. After he’s removed the shirt again and dropped it on the floor, he wraps his arms firmly around Haru.

“You look better without it. Be still. I’m not too worn out to spank you the whole way to Sion.” He slants Haru a stern look and leans over to press the intercom.

“Suoh,” he says briskly, “call ahead to Fukuzushi and order lunch for two, you know my preferences.”

“Yes, Asami-san,” comes Suoh’s gravelly voice through the speaker. Asami notices Haru blushing deeply at the sound of Suoh’s voice.

“Get it to go, swing by to pick it up, then take us to Sion. The back entrance, if you please.”

“Yes, Asami-san,” says Suoh, and then the intercom goes silent.

“Lesson two,” says Asami with a small quirk of his lips, tipping Haru’s chin up to look him in the eyes. “Haruki….as my submissive, you have nothing about which to be embarrassed. No, listen to me. You said you wanted to be mine in all ways, to be taught how to be a good boy for me. Was this true?”

“Oh yes, Asami-sama,” says Haru fervently.

“Then let go of your sensibilities, your sense of self. If you belong to me, and I require a thing of you...then you do it to please me. Is that not so?”

Haru nods, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Then Haru, if I’m pleased, isn’t that all that matters? You must choose to trust me not to ask anything of you that would harm you, and if that is true, then it must follow that anything I DO ask of you, you do for me, to please me. I am most pleased with you today. Hold your head up. There can be no shame in you, save for when you may disappoint your Master. You should be proud of yourself right now. I’m so pleased with you, in fact, that I’m keeping you by my side for the rest of the day. I know you don’t have class tomorrow. You and Aki can have a sleepover. I have a late meeting by video conference with an American counterpart, due to the time difference. But when I get home we can all have some fun together.”

Haru listens attentively, and Asami brushes his fingers through the boy’s hair again. 

“Kirishima and Suoh are my men. They’ve been with me for many years. I trust them. You can trust them too. I’ll never expose you to employees who would judge you. These won’t. They know me. And in knowing, they know they’ve never seen me as happy or as easy to work for as I have been since you and Akihito came into my life. Actually…” He gives a wry half-laugh, “for a while there, Akihito was one hell of a lot of extra work for them.” He sighs. “Do you see? If what your...your heart desires is to serve me, then there cannot be shame in doing so.”

 

“I’m not ashamed!” Haru cries earnestly. He needs Asami to understand this, to believe him. “Honestly, I’m not. I could never be ashamed of anything I do for you. And I  do want to serve you.” Haru bites his lip and looks anxious and uncertain, and he looks up at Asami with remorseful eyes. “I...I admit that sometimes I feel...embarrassed...if...if I think about certain things or…people seeing me or hearing me. I’m sorry. But I’ll try, Asami-sama! I’ll try harder not to be.”

 

Asami’s smile is fond, and shows in his warm, golden eyes. 

“You’ve pleased me today. You are beautiful to me just like this. Let go of what others think. Trust me. If you can trust, then you must believe me. The fool who taught you to be embarrassed by your desires deserves to be horsewhipped. You belong to ME now, Haru-kun. What you do, what you reveal in your passion, in the way your body responds to me...it is what I wish, exactly what I wish for you to do, to reveal. And you are exquisite. We’re going back to my office. You’re going to come and sit at my foot while I finish a few things at work, and I’m going to show you the proper way to accept food from your Master’s hand, show you what I want you to do when I wish to feed you that way...that if I tap you in one place, it means one thing, and if I tap elsewhere, another. You don’t doubt what we do together, Haruki. You respond so beautifully to me, I know that in those moments there is nothing in you but happiness and excitement. It is only afterwards that you begin to think too much. That’s not your job. It’s mine, and you’re not allowed to do it for me. It is also my job to protect you, and I will do it. It is safe to be wholly yourself, honest in your passion and your need, to show me how I affect you with your voice. It’s what I want. How can doing what I want from you be a bad thing? Whomever led you to feel badly about it was wrong Haru. So wrong. Believe me, you don’t want to argue with me about it. Do you see?”

 

“Yes, Asami-sama,” Haru answers solemnly. He  does see. And when Asami puts it that way, it is a bit easier to picture letting go of any anxiety that might arise. He’s not sure how successful he’ll be in the  practice of it, at least in the near future, but the words strike a deep chord within him.

He  does trust Asami-sama, and it  is his wishes, his thoughts and feelings that he needs to be concerned with. But Haru also knows his own thoughts and worries do run away with him sometimes. The last thing Haru wants to do is disappoint Asami, or give him any reason to think he isn’t fully committed to learning what he has to teach, that he isn’t proud and grateful to be given this chance. His resolve to please Asami-sama every way he can stiffens in the face of his patient and kind instruction.

It doesn’t quite stop Haru’s stomach from twisting with a funny tingling feeling when he thinks about the rest of his day--and he’s not quite sure if it’s apprehension or anticipation that’s stronger. People will certainly be coming and going to speak with Asami-sama. And Haru will be there, at his Master’s feet.

But nobody that he can’t trust , Haru reassures himself. He believes Asami implicitly when he says he’ll protect him. And what is he risking after all? A few moments of embarrassment, of awkwardness or insecurity? He’d endure  far more than that for the chance to belong to Asami-sama.

“I trust you,” Haru says simply, and he paraphrases Asami’s words with utter sincerity. “If it’s what you want, then it  is right.”

They stop at the high-end sushi restaurant to pick up lunch and continue on to Sion. As they exit the car in the alley behind the club, entering through the back so as not to expose Haru’s dishevelled state to anyone, Asami places a hand on his shoulder. Haru looks up at him, and Asami is pleased beyond telling to see no remaining clouds of doubt in those lovely eyes. Haru looks at him with absolute trust, and it hits him in the gut like a sock filled with lead. The only subs he’s trained before have belonged to someone else. This one...this  matters.  It thrills him to his blackened soul to be given this opportunity, and the thought of helping mold Haru into the kind of boy who will fill everyone who meets him with envy is a heady one. But he thinks again of the boy he’d watched bent over his work earlier today, luminous with excited pleasure over his work, paying attention to every detail, his passion for it evident in every motion of his graceful hands and slim body, the boy who had looked up to see him staring down with an expression of unguarded delight and joy, of his hushed and excited whisper, “Asami-sama, did you come to see  me ?”

Nothing he can teach Haru will be worth the cost if that cost includes the loss of anything he saw in that boy earlier today. No bragging rights, no pride of ownership, no pleasure at owning the perfect slave. Just as the cost of forcing Akihito into a role such as Haru wants to fill would never be worth the cost. He loves Akihito’s fierce spirit and his brattiness and his stubborn independence. He finds he also loves Haru’s innocence of spirit and his unspoiled beauty and unfeigned joy.

“Haru,” he says solemnly as they enter to hushed, cool, expensively decorated hallways of the upper floors of his exclusive nightclub, still closed for the day, and where he does a lot of his business.

“Yes, Asami-sama?” comes the soft, expectant reply. 

“There is one hard and fast rule I shall demand that you obey during this period. You must swear to me you’ll obey it, or I won’t teach you another thing. You will tell me at once if anything I ask of you or teach you distresses you, or makes you feel badly, hurts your feelings, confuses or upsets you. I don’t want blind obedience, Haruki. If you begin to do things because you think I want them, and they come at the cost of your happiness, you will be forever changed and no longer love belonging to me. Perhaps not right away, but the seeds of unhappiness will be planted, and your joy in submitting to me will eventually spoil. You don’t want to make me angry or let me down. I can see it in your eyes, and I lo….like that about you very much. I don’t want to change that. Your tendency will be to keep your discomfort to yourself because you will fear disappointing me. I’m telling you right now, I will only be disappointed if you hide unhappiness from me. If I ever look at you and do not see the eagerness on your face that I see right now, I’ll put a stop to this, because….”

He unlocks his office door and steps inside, beckoning Haru in with a tilt of his head. He walks to his desk, the brown bag containing their lunch in his hand. He gestures with his head again, at the floor beside his big leather chair. Haru kneels there without hesitation. Asami sits, and tells Haru to get comfortable, that he’s not expected to maintain a difficult position. When his boy is seated cross-legged at his feet, Asami tilts his chin up again and looks solemnly into Haru’s eyes.

“Because,” he continues at last, “you are beautiful and smart and good and exciting to me right now, just the way you are. I won’t spoil that, Haru. And if you let me, by holding your tongue when it’s imperative for you to speak up for yourself, it  will be spoiled. It is the job of a submissive to obey his Master, but it is also his job to communicate with him. I won’t have less than honesty from you, Haru. Can you promise me that?”

He plucks a piece of buttery yellowfin nigiri from one of the little trays of food and holds it ready to place it to Haru’s lips, waiting for his reply.

 

“Yes,” Haru says slowly, clearly thinking hard about what Asami is saying, but he hastily nods when Asami gives him a evaluating look, narrowing his eyes slightly. “I will be honest, Asami-sama. But…”

One eyebrow arches, but Asami’s voice remains neutral. “But?”

“Well...what if...what if something is a maybe little harder for me? Shouldn’t I still  try ?” A line creases between Haru’s brows. “And if it’s what you want, then I  do want to try. I don’t want…” Haru bites his bottom lip and worries it nervously. It’s entirely true that he doesn’t want to disappoint Asami-sama, and maybe he’s hyper focused on that. But if Asami-sama is asking for something then that means it’s something he  wants Haru to learn. He doesn’t want Asami-sama to lose something important to him because he’s worried  that he can’t take it.  “I...I know everything won’t be easy, but...but it’s worth it. Totally worth it.”

 

“Listen to your heart, Haru-kun. You’ll know the difference between something that’s hard and something that makes you feel badly about yourself, or humiliates you. And there’s a difference between being a little embarrassed and being humiliated. Here’s an easy lesson. Put your hands behind your back and clasp them. When your Master feeds you from his hand, you must always resist the urge to bring your own hands into the process. Yes, just like that. Tilt your head back just a bit and open your mouth. Put your tongue out just a little, just over your bottom lip...good boy. Now, when I want you to do that, I’m going to reach down and touch you here,” His free hand reaches down and lightly taps Haru’s shoulder. He knows the smile on his face still reveals a great deal more that he’s used to showing anyone, but Haru is so earnest, so anxious and eager and nervous, and it is one of the finest things he’s ever seen. He places the sushi delicately on Haru’s tongue and nods. Haru closes his mouth and chews, his eyes bright. “There is a very long list of things I can teach you. I won’t teach you anything that holds no interest for me. I’ve known Dominants who use difficult positions to discipline their pets. Such as making them lean against a wall with their knees bent 90 degrees, and to hold there for extended periods of time. It’s incredibly difficult, quickly becomes painful, and is next to inevitable that the pet will fail. As is balancing heavy books on outstretched hands for hours at a time. I’m not going to give you tasks designed for you to fail. If I feel the need to punish you, it’s going to be as immediate as possible, it will be over quickly, and I’ll never bring it up again. But Haru...the list of things you could learn is long. Crossing some of those things off if they distress you just means the end goal is that much closer to being reached because there’s one thing we don’t have to spend time learning together. There are so many ways to please me. I’ll be a great deal more disappointed by losing one fraction of the light in your eyes at this moment than I will be by learning that you’re never going to love….” he casts about in his brain for an example, “polishing my shoes with your tongue!” 

 

The clarification goes a long way to settling his concern, and Asami’s scenario makes Haru giggle. He can’t help it. “Well, your shoes are pretty clean and shiny already, Asami-sama. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But Aki would totally  flip if he saw.”

Haru giggles again, remembering some of Aki’s reactions to the items on the checklist they’d gone over together. 

 

Asami tips Haru’s chin up farther, then leans down and kisses him, giving him a stinging bite on his already-swollen but terribly sweet lower lip.

“Mm,” he purrs into Haru’s ear, “I pay very good money to have my shoes polished. I’d vastly prefer putting your cute little tongue to better use.”

Haru’s ears turn pink with pleasure and he smiles. Just the thought of anyone or anything dimming that smile makes Asami’s palms itch to tear something apart. He wonders for a moment if he’s equal to this task. He may not carry as many regrets as Feilong, but Asami has been much better at breaking things than fixing them for a long time too. He knows it is only Akihito’s astonishing capacity for forgiveness that has saved him from destroying something precious in the near past. He sighs and presses his face into Haru’s hair.

“A good slave,” he says softly, “loves the marks his Master leaves on his body. Just the way you do, Haru. You are far from fragile. I want to show you your inner strength, your power. I don’t want to damage it. I’ve damaged many things in my life. A Dominant is nothing without his submissive. Your gift makes me. I’d have you believe that above all else. I want this to be fun for you. Ah. And for me.” He grins. “In fact, I’m reasonably sure I can promise you that. I’m NOT going to punish you when you struggle with a lesson. Trial and error isn’t failure, and learning isn’t disobedience. But,” his grin widens, takes on a decidedly feral edge. “Oh, my sweet baby boy, I am going to turn you over my knee and spank you. I’ll bend you over tables and beds and all manner of things and spank you harder. So, so many times. To your naughty little heart’s content. Mark this. Naughty and bad are far from the same word. You’re almost never a bad boy, Haru. Your heart is too true, your desire to please too sincere for you to ever truly be bad. I never.” He licks Haru’s ear. “Ever.” He nips the delicate rim. “ Ever  want you to stop being naughty. And speaking of bending you over things, I happen to have this nice sturdy desk right here. What fun, another lesson. Sometimes...most of the time, your Master will spank you just because he wants to. Stand up and bend over. Pull down your pants and put your elbows on the desk. I didn’t get to taste your pretty tears earlier. I wish for you to cry for the rest of your lunch, my good boy, just because I wish it. What do you think about that?”

 

Shit. Haru exhales shakily. It's like a lit fuse sparking right down deep to his belly where it burns bright and hot. Haru's fingers into his palms as he stands up unsteadily and bends over, lifting his hips to unfasten his slacks and push everything down his thighs. When he settles over the desk and cradles his head in the crook of his arms, his nostrils fill with the rich smell of leather and the faint scent of cigarettes. Haru inhales deeply.

There's something indescribably sexy about being here in Asami-sama's office, where he conducts his business of the day, arranged and exposed and waiting for his Master's pleasure.

Oh, he wants it badly. He's hungry for it--to give Asami-sama his tears, to have them taken from him. It's going to hurt so much, and he's going to cry and cry, and it's going to happen again and again and again, not just today, but whenever Asami-sama wishes.

Haru shivers. "Oh, yes, please," he says softly. "Make me cry for you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here in this chapter, you see Asami and Haru's relationship take a big step towards becoming a D/s, power exchange relationship. The kind of depth they're going for isn't for everyone. No one should make you feel bad if you don't want the same things Haru wants. You'll begin to see Asami training Haru to become his owned submissive, perhaps even his slave boy. The methods and practices he uses and will be using are only some of the things that can be done, and only one way of doing them. No one way is right or wrong. Be attentive, compassionate, communicative, and be yourself. If D/s appeals to you, it's okay for you to do things that work for you. Respect one another's limits and don't lose sight of the fact that besides being safe, sane and consensual...it's also supposed to be fun!


	12. Low Battery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again...please be forewarned. This series is an Alternate Finder Universe which contains a triad relationship with Asami, Akihito, and my writing partner's OC, Ito Haruki. We won't be hurt if you don't like OC's, but please...just don't read it if that doesn't float your boat!
> 
>  
> 
> At the request of practically ALL our Tumblr followers, the answer to the question "Haru, what happened when you thought about letting your phone die to avoid Asami-sama's calls when he was trying to frustrate you sexually?" This question actually came up when someone asked Haru what happened if he touched himself without permission. He hasn't, but he's had a demonstration of what would happen. See our blog, wheremydem0nsh1de.tumblr.com to see that answer, which was the jumping-off point for this chapter! Poor Haru. We hope you enjoy!

“Aki, I don’t think I can take it anymore. It’s been  days like this. If it was only not being able to see you both, I could handle it, but this…”

 

Haru rolls onto his side and curls his knees up to his chin, cupping the phone to his ear. His eyes dart to the clock next to his pillow.

 

“He’s doing it every night?” Akihito asks with a depth of sympathy that could only come from intimate experience of the issue at hand.

 

“Yes,” Haru moans. “Every night. Sometimes I think he  wants me to mess up. I wish I’d never asked about what he’d do if I  did give in.”

 

“He’s a devil. A  perverted devil,” Akihito agrees. “I’m sorry, I should have known better than to ask him what the consequences would be. Now he’s just going to be push you because it amuses him.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Haru protests. “I just…” He groans deeply. “It’s killing me.  During the day, I stay so busy that it’s not so bad. Well, after I’ve had a cold shower anyway. I wake up... so hard ...every morning because of what he says to me at night.  After I finally am able to fall asleep--and it isn’t easy with a painful erection I can’t do anything about--I dream about stuff all night, and then I wake up...like  that again. On top of my project, I think the lack of sleep is making me a little crazy.”

 

“Yeah, and the blue balls,” Akihito snickers.

 

“You’re mean,” Haru says pitifully, but he laughs grudgingly because he knows Akihito really does feel for him.

 

“Sorry, Haru. I know it’s rough.” Akihito’s contrite words are undermined by his next suggestion. “If you’re that desperate, maybe you  should give in to the urge.”

 

“Are you crazy?”  Haru shivers. “Even if Asami-sama’s ‘demonstration’ wasn’t enough to keep from doing something like that, I wouldn’t want to...to disappoint him.”

 

Akihito sighs. “Yeah, I know. Well, you could just tell him to lay off.“

 

“No...I can’t do that...” Haru hesitates. He  should be able to handle it. He  should have the self-control Asami-sama expects of him.  “But maybe...maybe he won’t call tonight.”

 

That hopeful thought fills Haru with a sense of fleeting relief and a little bit of guilt. Two more days and his self-imposed isolation to cope with a major assignment will be over. Surely, he can survive that much longer. Unfortunately, imagining the type of reunion likely to occur then makes his cock stir and swell to an uncomfortable state in his snug fitting jeans. Haru whimpers.

 

“Or...” Haru says desperately, “you could seduce him right when he gets home and wear him out so much he passes out before he even thinks about calling me!”

  
  


Poor Haru. Asami’s really torturing him. Aki winces as he listens to Haru talk. He knows intellectually that Haru’s NOT actually unhappy. On the contrary, he’s so happy to be with them both that he still practically glows with it, but the strain of the lesson Asami’s teaching him is really showing. And it’s Akihito’s fault, because Asami wouldn’t have known Haru was curious about what would happen were he to touch himself without permission if Aki hadn’t asked FOR him. He wishes he were in Haru’s apartment right now, to suck him off, quick and dirty. It wouldn’t take long. Minutes. Maybe even SECONDS, as hard-up as his poor sweet lover is right now.

 

He  knows  Asami thinks this lesson is important for Haru to learn. He thinks he even gets  why.  Doing it this way, when Haru hasn’t actually pleasured himself without Asami’s permission, means it isn’t causing Haru any  emotional  agony. He gets that Asami wants Haru to understand as much about the consequences of disobedience BEFORE he disobeys for real, because Haru’s heart is so obedient and so sensitive that being tormented this way for an actual transgression would devastate him. He understands too that it’s part of teaching Haru what it means to belong to Asami, body and heart and possibly even soul.

 

But come on! Haru GETS it already! Akihito’s never heard Haru sound this frustrated. He pummels his brain for suggestions.

 

“Could you just...not answer your phone? You know, go to bed early? Or...hey, maybe you could turn it off?”

 

“Are you crazy?” asks Haru incredulously, and Aki has to admit that it’s probably a really stupid suggestion, but it gives him another idea.

 

“Okay yeah, probably not a good plan. But...Haru, we both know this project’s a big one, and that you’re working hard and that it’s a little stressful. You could forget to plug your phone in at all today, maybe...maybe you need to use it to do some research while you’re away from your computer. Everybody knows data burns battery faster than almost anything. So why can’t you...as tired and preoccupied as you are...why can’t your phone be dead or dying tonight when he calls? Not having enough battery to talk isn’t anything you could get punished for!”

 

Haru sounds skeptical, but it’s only two more days, and Aki can tell he’s truly exhausted.  Gradually, he allows himself to be convinced. He’ll forget his charger in his apartment today and he’ll run the battery down a little, enabling him to at least shorten his conversation with Asami tonight a bit, and maybe he’ll be able to get a little more sleep.

 

Just talking to Akihito has helped a lot. Haru misses him and hearing his voice is comforting despite his other issues. He’s reluctant to say goodbye, but he since actually does have to visit the campus today, they manage to cut the call after a few more minutes of silly, sweet nothings that leave Haru with a big smile and an optimism that he  can survive this little trial by fire after all.

 

It doesn’t stop him from hastily shoving his phone in his pocket and determinedly not looking at the charger left sitting on the table. The niggling sense of guilt that chews at his stomach is harder to ignore, but Haru is able to push it aside once he immerses himself into research at the University library. A particularly tricky analysis keeps him busy for hours and takes his mind off everything else, even when he deliberately uses his phone frequently to pinpoint relevant research and bibliographic sources. For a little while anyway, managing the demands of his exacting professor eclipses those of his exacting lover.

 

By the end of the day, when he packs up his things, Haru’s phone is flashing the low battery warning just as planned. A low throb of guilt hits him again, but Haru grabs the phone and puts it in his pocket. He hasn’t done anything wrong, he tells himself. Not really.

 

That rationalization gets weaker the later it gets. His anxiety makes it impossible to enjoy the curry he’d stopped for before riding the train home. He’d only been able to pick at it, but food is the last thing on his mind when Haru get back to his apartment.

 

He takes a shower, a hot one this time because he feels tense and unsettled, and the hot stream on his strained shoulders relax him enough that he can type up today’s work into some semblance of order. By the time he’s done, he looks at the clock and his belly spikes with anticipation.

  
Asami will be calling soon. Haru paces nervously back and forth in the small space, then takes his futon from the cupboard and rolls it out onto the floor. He pulls back edge of the comforter and crawls beneath the fluffy bedding.

 

Asami leans back into the softness of the buttery leather of the big recliner in the living room. The lights are off, Tokyo’s skyline vivid with lights against the dark sky. He’s imposed a bedtime for Haruki during this period of increased stress while his boy finishes a very important project at school. They’d agreed together that Haru needed to concentrate only on his work for a few days, and that they would all wait to see one another again until after the deadline. He knows without a doubt that Haru will obey his curfew.

 

That Akihito had revealed Haru’s curiosity about the consequences of self-gratification against Asami’s wishes had been a happy coincidence. He doesn’t do it to be intentionally cruel, but that the lesson has been followed so closely by the stress of the project and forced celibacy is fortuitous. Haru’s training in most things is almost effortless. His mind is acute, his memory impressive. He makes few mistakes. However, Asami knows that mistakes will come. He worries about those, because he has concerns that Haru will be way too hard on himself when he does make a mistake. He thinks that using this as a training lesson in the consequences of disobedience is a way to teach him in such a way that he will learn it VERY well...but without the emotional trauma of having made the real mistake. Hell, he’s already been shown what the consequences for disobedience would be. This is just to show Haru that Asami and and will drive him crazy with lust sometimes.

 

Besides, it’s fun. Haruki belongs to him. If he wants to torture the boy with sexual frustration for a few days, it’s his prerogative...which is yet another convenient lesson Haru’s learning this week.

 

He takes out his thumb and presses the speed-dial button that calls Haru’s phone. It rings twice, then Haru’s voice comes on the line. He sounds tired, Asami thinks. Tired and stressed. And there’s a thread of something in the boy’s voice that he doesn’t like. Not just nerves, but dread. He frowns a little. Well, there are only two nights left.

 

“Hello, Haru-kun,” he purrs, his voice low and teasing and sensual. He knows that just the sound of it makes Haru shiver.

 

“H-hello, Asami-sama,” says Haru tensely.

 

“Have you been a good boy today?” he asks teasingly. Haru whispers that he thinks so. “Mm. You haven’t touched yourself even a little? Haven’t reached down between your legs even a little...ohh, even just to adjust your poor hungry cock...maybe let your hand linger just for a  moment?  Thinking about my touch while you did…”

 

A soft gasp from Haru makes his lips curve, but his litany is interrupted by a warning tone on the other end of the line. He recognizes the sound, he’s just never heard it from Haru’s phone before. The boy has always been conscientious about keeping his phone charged in case Asami wants to talk to him, since the day he gave Haru the brand new, top of the line HTC One.

 

“Is your battery about to die?” he asks with a deeper frown.

 

“Ah…” The slight pause rouses Asami’s senses even more. “Yes, Asami-sama. I’m sorry.” Haru does sound remorseful, much more so than forgetting to charge his phone would seem to deserve. “Just a moment, I’ll...I’ll find the cord…”

 

Asami listens and within a few seconds hears the familiar beep of a charging phone.

 

“I have it plugged in now, Asami-sama,” Haru says softly. “I’m sorry.”

 

He could’ve followed the plan, ‘misplaced’ his phone cord and charger, let the phone die, but with Asami’s voice in his ear, Haru just  can’t . He feels miserable for even having considered it. Is his desire to really belong to Asami, to serve him like he claimed he wanted to, so weak? The stress of this term, this project, even of all the changes that have happened so recently, none of that is an excuse.

  
  


He nearly drops the subject. Haru has been working very hard this entire week, and Asami knows he’s been adding to the poor boy’s stress level. It’s an understandable oversight.

Except it doesn’t FEEL like an oversight. His old phone, the one he’d bought himself and paid for himself, maybe. The phone Asami purchased and pays for so that he can get in touch with his boy at any time? He’d bet most of his considerable fortune that Haru will forget to charge THIS cell phone the day pigs fly.

 

“What on earth made you forget to charge your phone today?” he asks shrewdly. Haru’s guilt is obvious in the way he stammers and somehow manages to speak without really saying anything at all.

 

“I did!” Akihito’s voice is loud and brazen from the open doorway that leads down the hall. He steps into the living room, his fists clenched by his side, his round chin raised defiantly.

 

“I’ll call you back, Haruki,” says Asami softly. “Exactly how much trouble you’re in will be decided by the conversation I’m about to have with Akihito.”

 

Shit.

 

“Wait! Asami-sama…” Haru’s anxiety triples, not only for himself, but now he’s dragged Aki into the middle of this too. The thought of Akihito getting into hot water because of him makes him feel sick. “I--”

 

“Haru,” Asami interrupts, still quietly but with a thread of warning that makes Haru subside with a silent whimper. “I will call you back.”

 

“Yes, Asami-sama,” he whispers, wincing as the call ends abruptly.

 

He can only imagine the conversation that’s happening now. Haru hunches over his knees and waits in wretched agitation.

  
  


“Explain,” he says shortly, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Akihito piercingly.

 

“He’s miserable,” blurts Aki. “I talked to him last night for a while. He’s not sleeping very well, because he can’t stop being too turned on to relax. He’s taking cold showers every damn morning just to make it to class without looking like some kind of creepy perv. He’s in pain and he’s upset about it and he won’t tell you because he doesn’t want you to think he’s a wuss who can’t show a little self control.”

 

“Self-control is an important quality,” murmurs Asami softly. Aki glares at him and steps close, leaning down so their faces are almost touching, unclenching one fist to poke Asami in the chest with his index finger.

 

“And whose fault is it that he doesn’t have any when it comes to you? Huh? You say all the time that you don’t want us to hide our reactions to you, that you like to hear our voices. Don’t hold back, you say. Never hide your need from me, you say. Well, now he can’t, and he’s unhappy.”

 

Asami doesn’t say anything to this, mainly because it’s true, and he’s thinking about that. Akihito continues.

 

“ I  convinced him to let his battery run down. I figured it might keep your conversation….your  torture  a little shorter tonight, maybe give him some rest. He said no. I talked him into it. I think the only reason I could was cause he’s so tired. Don’t be mad at him. He’s about to fall apart anyway. You can…” Aki straightens up and swallows hard, his voice going high and thin with anxiety, :You can p-punish me if you want to, but leave him alone.” He clenches his fists again, and his teeth as well. “ Please.”

 

“I’m not going to punish you,” says Asami absently, his thoughts on Haru. “That’s not to say there won’t be consequences, but I’m not going to cane you. You meant well, and your concern was Haru’s well-being. But you went about it the wrong way, Aki. You should have convinced him to tell me, not tried to figure out a way for him to hide from it. When Haru is back with us once this project is done, we’ll all be happy to see one another. At that time, I’ll spank you. It will be hard, hard enough to make you cry, but it will also be the kind of spanking that arouses you, but that night, you won’t be allowed to come. Does that seem fair to you?”

 

Akihito’s head rears back a little in surprise and he stares at Asami, wide eyed and open mouthed for a few seconds.

 

“I...yeah. Actually it does,” he says finally, sounding contrite. “Asami please? Please don’t be mad at Haru? It’s not his fault.”

 

“Haru,” says Asami softly and definitely, “chooses his own actions. But I’ll take what you’ve said into consideration. Ah! Don’t say anything else, unless you’d like to make this worse. You’ve done quite enough. Off to bed with you. I’ll be along later.”

 

Aki obeys, albeit a little reluctantly, and Asami redials Haru’s number. The young man’s voice is soft and contrite when he answers.

 

“First,” says Asami sternly, “I am not angry with you. Hear me, and believe it.”

 

“Yes, Asami-sama,” whispers Haru, sounding relieved.

 

“Second, I am going to be leaving here momentarily to come and take care of the consequences of your actions, and you are going to tell me what I’m bringing with me.” He’s glad Haru can’t see his face, the predatory grin spreading across it at Haru’s sharp gasp. “I’ll be there within the hour, and during that time, you’re going to decide how many times I’m going to use whatever you select on you, and in what manner. Choices sometimes have consequences, sweet boy. I am NOT angry, but the choice you should have made was to tell me how badly you were struggling. Choose wisely, Haru-kun. You’re facing a dilemma now. If you choose something I decide is too lenient for the circumstance, I’ll bring the cane along as well. But if you choose something too harsh...well, I’m going to use it anyway. Make your choice, little boy. Don’t keep me waiting.”

 

Haru feels as if all the air has whooshed out his lungs. Choose now? The unexpected demand takes him completely by surprise, and though he’s vastly relieved that Asami-sama says he isn’t angry, his heart starts hammering violently.

 

Asami-sama wants him to choose what he’ll be punished with? He’s coming  now ? “Oh…I...” Haru stutters, his thoughts racing as he tries to form a coherent response. It’s obvious that Asami-sama knows that he was trying to avoid his call. He knows about how weak he’s been. His own self-reproach stings deep within him, making his chest tight and his cheeks flush with shame. And what about Akihito? Is he all right, or is he in trouble too for trying to help him?

 

Haru’s eyes squeeze shut in mortification. He’s failed at something so simple that Asami-sama feels it necessary to make a special trip all the way over here at this time of night just to discipline him,  and he’s involved Akihito in his mess. Even if Asami-sama isn’t angry, he  must be awfully disappointed. Haru blinks back the sting his eyes, and takes a shaky breath.

 

“You should...you  should bring the cane, Asami-sama.”

  
  


“.....Very well,” he says softly. “You may expect me in thirty minutes. We’ll talk when this is finished. Haru…” his voice gentles a little. “If I have to continue to tell you that I’m not angry, I’m going to become annoyed about it. I’ll see you soon.”

 

Haru’s voice is barely audible when he says goodbye. Asami sighs heavily and sits in the dark silence for a few minutes before he gets up and goes down the hall to the hidden room. Aki hears it grind softly as it opens. Asami sees him peeking around the corner of the doorway and rolls his eyes a little as he steps inside. He regards his selection of canes for a full minute, considering. He rejects the heaviest immediately, the one as thick at the handle as his thumb, as well as the next largest, the thickness of his index finger. The third is the one with which he has punished Akihito and that he used on Haru the first night, when they’d rescued him from certain rape and torture. His lips quirk with a smile and the invisible weight he’d felt settle upon his shoulders when Haru had made his choice vanishes when he passes over that cane as well, and the next, selecting at last his lightest cane. It’s little more than a switch really. Not the thickness of a pencil at its thickest point, it tapers smoothly to about the thickness of a bamboo skewer, but much more resilient and very flexible. He turns, and sees Akihito blocking his way, looking pale and frightened but determined.

 

“You’re NOT going to cane him,” he cries shrilly. Asami rolls his eyes again and holds up the cane he’s chosen, preempting an argument.

 

“I am,” he says quietly. “With this. I told him I’d use whatever he chose, even if it was far too severe for his crime. He did choose something too severe, but I’m keeping my word. I must. I’ll just...be keeping it with a little less severity than he’s expecting.”

 

Aki calms immediately when he sees the implement in Asami’s hand.

 

“Oh. Okay. That...that’ll sting like a bitch, but it’s not...I mean it won’t….”

 

“I know,” says Asami, resting his hand on the top of Akihito’s head as he walks past him towards the door, looking back over his shoulder. “And I thought I told you to go to bed. Or would you like a little taste of this before I leave?”

 

Aki opens his mouth to sincerely assure him he does NOT want a little taste, but then he pauses, his mouth open, and he simply stares at Asami helplessly.

 

“Ah,” says Asami with another sigh. “You’re going to sit here and feel guilty that he’s getting this whipping because of you, aren’t you?”

 

“Y-yeah,” whispers Aki. Asami strides back to him swiftly, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into the bedroom where he bends the boy over the first piece of furniture they come to, which happens to be the dresser. He yanks down Aki’s pants and whips him, hard and fast, a dozen times across his bare cheeks and the tops of his thighs. Aki yelps and then howls as very thin welts ride up and his bottom reddens under the slender cane. It is over almost before he can begin to cry out. Asami pulls his pants back up, jerks him upright, spins him and kisses him deeply.

 

“Better?” he asks with a smirk. Aki dashes tears away with the back of his hand and nods. He yanks the boy into a rough hug, then sets him at arm’s length. “All right?”

 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m good. Th-thanks. Go...go to Haru. I bet he’s pretty miserable.”

 

Asami imagines so too, and wastes no time making his way to the elevator and the parking garage. He doesn’t wish to rouse Suoh for this, so he slips behind the wheel of one of his BMW’s and speeds off, headed across town towards Tokyo University and its nearby neighborhoods of cheap, crowded apartments buildings crammed with students, graduates, and PhD candidates, plus the occasional single, thrifty professor. He keeps the can close against his trouser leg so the couple of people he encounters inside the lobby don’t notice it, and mounts the stairs to Haru’s floor because he views the elevator in this building with great distrust.

 

The door opens almost instantly at his knock, and he steps inside, closing and locking the door behind him. Haru stands before him, his fingers knotting and unknotting themselves, his eyes swimming with tears, misery evident on his lovely face and in every line of his body. Asami doesn’t say a word, but strides to the new futon along the near wall (they’d broken his old one beyond repair when Haru had been dosed with an unknown aphrodisiac) and sits, sweeping Haru along with him and yanking the boy into his lap, sighing heavily.

 

“What am I going to do with you?” he mutters into Haru’s hair as Haru begins to try to apologize. “Stop. Haruki! STOP it. A very great deal of this is my fault. Are you listening? Akihito gave me rather a lot to think about. I’ve made sure you are always vulnerable to me, haven’t I? That you show your desire freely. That’s made it hard for you to control. I’ve given you more than you can handle at this point in your training. Akihito pointed that out to me, and he’s right. That’s why I’m not angry, and why you’re not being punished. What you are getting is a reprimand for considering dishonesty even for a moment, and for being reluctant to tell me how hard this week has been on you. Haru...I cannot show you mercy if I don’t know you’re in need of it. Sometimes I may still choose not to show you any, but it is not your place to remove my choice for me. THAT is what this visit is about. Now,” he says softly, not giving Haru a great deal of time to second-guess what Asami has just said to him. He hasn’t shown Haru the cane yet, which is entirely on purpose. “How many strokes do you think you need? Again, I caution you. Choose too few, and I shall triple it. But if you choose more than I’d have assigned you, you still have to take them all.” He waits to see what Haru will say.

 

Haru looks up at him wordlessly, brows knit together in fretful lines. He hasn’t had time to properly process what Asami has said, and it only makes him more anxious, especially as his heart wells up in protest when it sounds as if Asami-sama is taking responsibility for Haru’s own poor performance. But he understands, at least, that his failure to be completely honest with Asami has brought him here, and that all he can do in this moment is to give him the answer to his question, and quickly.

 

He hardly knows how to answer it, though, and he has very little basis of comparison. What does Asami  want him to say? “Asami-sama…” he whispers uncertainly, thinking back to the only true punishment he’s ever received. He’d gotten twelve strokes from the cane that time. But that had been the first time, and his transgressions had happened technically before he belonged to Asami. Was that punishment a good bar to measure against? Maybe Asami had gone easier  then because it was his first time. It hadn’t  felt easy. But then, there had been the tawse and the birch too, and the spanking before. So maybe twelve strokes alone  weren’t enough on their own. Part of his punishment then had been for not being honest too. And here he was committing the same sort of offense again. That surely deserves extra punishment. But how much?

 

Haru drops his shamed gaze to his lap, where his fingers twist together convulsively. Too much time has passed already, so he hesitantly hazards an answer that he desperately hopes is appropriate. “Twenty-four?”

 

There’s a long silence that makes Haru’s heart beat painfully against his ribcage. He has time to think about those twelve strokes he received before, and then to think about receiving double that amount. Unless...unless he chose too few. He pales as the blood drains out of his face. No...there’s no way Asami-sama would use the cane on him  that many times, especially not when Asami said he wasn’t being punished. Haru clings to that, gathering his resolve, says softly, “Asami-sama?”

  
  


“You know,” says Asami, his lips still pressed to Haru’s head, his shoulders definitely NOT shaking with suppressed laughter, “it’s a good thing I know my boy a little. For future reference, sweet boy, for teaching you the lesson associated with this situation, had I brought the Intermediate cane I used on you the first time, I’d have assigned you five strokes. At  most. Two dozen will break your skin, turn your adorable ass into ground wagyu beef. Leave you bleeding and hysterical.”

 

Haru muffles a sound of pure terror into Asami’s coat lapel and starts to cry quietly. Asami’s heart squeezes in his chest.

 

“You’re not listening very well, Haru-kun. I said if I’d brought it.” He lifts the slender little cane he’s kept concealed against his leg and holds it up in front of Haru’s face, then clears his throat. “Look,” he says sternly. Haru trembles visibly. “I said  look,  “ snaps Asami, his voice sharp as a whip’s lash. Haru flinches, but he obeys, raising his head to take in the sight of the slender rattan switch Asami holds in front of his face. Haru, Asami has fairly recently discovered,  loves  switches. Moans and squirms and lifts his hips to meet the sharp, stinging bite of them, spreads his legs wantonly and cries out in a needy voice when they kiss his soft, tender thighs, wriggles and begs beautifully as the welt rise up on his fair skin. They’re not heavy enough to cause bruising, just an intense, burning bite on the skin’s surface, and although Asami had begun conservatively when introducing Haru to the switch’s kiss, it hadn’t taken very long before he was putting his back into the strokes and Haru was begging for more, even through tears, trembling and painfully aroused. The differences between that switch and this skinny little cane are that this is marginally thicker, by a few millimeters, and that this will not break as the switch had finally done; unequal to the task of giving Haru all he could take. He holds it up and chuckles as he watches Haru’s expression.

 

Relief and wonder flicker through his watery eyes, and Haru brushes the tears away as his expression morphs into confusion. “But why, Asami-sama?”

 

He knows that Asami has said this  isn’t punishment, even if it really kind of is, just maybe not a serious one to Asami’s mind, Haru thinks. But even so, he’s brought something that Haru  really likes. It’s confusing, even though Haru knows it’s the emotional consequences of knowing he messed up that hurt worse and last longer than any physical pain. Maybe he’s just too tired and stressed right now to think clearly. Haru leans into him, breathing in Asami’s reassuring scent. In fact, it’s a relief that it’s finally come to this. In Asami’s presence, he can give it all up for a while anyway, all that built up tension. He won’t have a choice. Asami-sama will decide what’s best; all he has to do is trust him.

  
  


“Haru-kun,” says Asami softly, “your only real mistake here was in thinking you were failing me. If I’d merely given you more than you could bear...say during a spanking that was for no other reason than that I wanted to give it to you...I believe that you would tell me. If I were to...tie you up...in a position which cut off your circulation...you would tell me, would you not?”

 

“Yes, Asami-sama,” whispers Haru.

 

“You’d damn well better, because if you allowed something I did to you to damage my property, Haru...I would be most displeased.” Haru nods earnestly. “Haru….silly little boy...you thought you deserved to suffer the strain I’ve put you under this week because you should have been able to handle it. Is that not so?”

 

“It is,” says Haru miserably. “But Asami-sama, I  should  have! The...the point was for me to learn self control, and I failed. I couldn’t!”

 

“The point,” purrs Asami into Haru’s ear, “was to make you mad with desire for me, Haruki. It was to show you that sometimes I will torment you because I can. Not to teach you a lesson. I wanted you to come back to my bed so desperate for my touch that you’d weep for me when I finally granted it to you, that you’d tremble in my arms and beg me to take you the moment I had your clothes off….if not before. Nothing but that. You’d already had your lesson in self-control, the night I made you go to bed with Akihito and myself without allowing you release.”

 

“Oh,” says Haru in a small voice.

 

“You were truthful about the cell phone, and you didn’t avoid my call, even though you considered it. As distraught as you were, it’s not really a wonder you considered it. You must learn that it’s all right for you to talk to me, Haru. To tell me when something is hard, when it causes you undue stress. You must stop passing judgment on yourself, and let me do my job. I’m the only one who gets to decide whether you’re not measuring up or not. Not you. That’s why I’m here now, and that’s why you’re getting this whipping. All right?”

 

“Yes, Asami-sama.” Haru nods, but his eyes drop to the slender cane in Asami’s hands and his cheeks flush a little. He imagines he can feel the ghost of that hot, stinging burn on his skin from the last time Asami used something like this on him. It makes his pulse race.

 

He probably shouldn’t be anticipating it so very much as he is given the situation, but then again, he’s sure Asami-sama can see right through him anyway. Twenty-four strokes with this whip-thin cane won’t be unbearable at all. Quite the reverse. It will surely to leave him hot and bothered and craving so much more.

 

Shit.

 

His eyes fly to Asami’s and widen as he sees the deep amusement in those golden eyes.

  
  


“Isn’t it nice how things work out sometimes?” he says with a smirk. He nudges Haru to his feet and stands up as well. “Take off your pants and underwear and bend over the end of the futon. Open your legs wide for me.”

 

He hopes the fact that Haru is already more than half hard and staring at the gently waving tip of the whippy  cane like a mouse stares, hypnotized, at a cobra means he’s not dwelling on his imagined shortcomings anymore. He slides the tip of the switch up the back of Haru’s leg when he’s in place, reaches between his widespread thighs and brushes the smooth length over his dirty little boy’s cock and balls. The he pulls it back.

 

“I won’t lie,” he says with a wicked leer. “I am going to whip you with this very nearly as hard as I can. It’s going to feel like a red hot wire across your soft, pretty skin, Haru. And oh, poor boy, it still won’t be enough. Two dozen then.”

 

Haru nods, but only makes an inarticulate noise and arches his back, offering his bottom up for the cane. Asami measures the stroke, tapping softly against pert, rounded cheeks. He draws his arm back and brings it slashing down hard. The instrument is too light to cause real harm. A white welt rises up in the wake of the wicked bite, the skin around it flushing dark red. Haru cries out in pain, but on the tail end of the cry, his voice slides into a hoarse moan of desire.. Grinning fiercely, Asami slashes the supple instrument across both of Haru’s naked cheeks and the tops of his thighs, letting the tip curl in to bite cruelly at sweet, tender skin. He keeps a careful count in his head, because it would be easy to get carried away with a boy so responsive, so eager for the little cane’s bite, and that he will not do. Two dozen strokes only, though he makes each one count. It doesn’t take long. Not nearly long enough for Haru, he’ sure. He stops, sets the switch down on the futon. Haru whimpers. Asami chuckles and runs his fingertips lightly over the two-dozen slender welts decorating his boy’s backside and thighs. Haru moans.

 

“I’m nearly finished here,” purrs Asami. His fingers drift between Haruki’s legs and over his quivering, erect cock. “Look at you. So hard you’re  dripping, ” he teases. “Tell me, Haru-kun. Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?”

 

“Ahh…” Haru’s knees threaten to buckle as the teasing touch lingers. The heat of his bottom weakens his limbs, make his back curve wantonly and arousal burn in his belly. “Y-yes, Asami-sama. But if I say no, will you use the cane until I have?”

 

Asami’s low, dark chuckle makes Haru’s spine tingle, but the only thing Asami does is trace the stinging welts with his fingertips again. “I’m pleased you’re feeling spirited enough to jest. I’ll feel less compunction about leaving my dirty little boy in this shameless state for another night.”

 

Haru whimpers. It’s no less than what he expected, what he’s endured this whole week. But it’s even worse now that Asami is right here, and Haru knows that he’ll still go to bed aching and wanting and alone again. As if he needed any prompting to be desperate for Asami’s touch.

 

“What was that?” Asami asks softly, bending so his lips brush Haru’s ear.

 

Haru realizes with a jolt that he’s whispered his thoughts allowed.

 

“I...I said.I’m  always mad with desire for you.  Always .” It’s true. Even if Asami isn’t tormenting him, his own thoughts are. He thinks about it all the time. How much he wants it...craves it. He can’t  ever get enough.

 

He’ll beg Asami-sama shamelessly every single time if that’s what he wants.

 

“Hmm,” muses Asami, continuing his torturous caress. “I believe I may be getting through to you that you must leave it up to me to decide when you’ve failed me. Perhaps you’re getting close to trusting me enough to have faith that I won’t get angry with you when you are troubled. But there’s another lesson here I think you’ve missed entirely.”

 

Haru’s head jerks upright and he stares at Asami with a horrified expression on his face, clearly wracking his brains for an explanation for Asami’s words. Asami rolls his eyes and kisses Haru’s trembling lips, stopping an apology before it can begin to form.

 

“That lesson,” he growls softly, sucking Haru’s lower lip into his mouth and biting it just hard enough to sting a little. “Is that your Master isn’t always right, Haru-kun. I’m going to make mistakes too. I made one this week. I’ve demanded honesty from you in your reactions to me, refused you the luxury of a single defense against my sensual assault on your body. I love the way you need what I give you, Haru. You have an important project this week. It requires your attention, your focus, and I’ve made sure you’re short on both.” His thumb strokes slowly between Haru’s stinging, welted cheeks and presses softly against his tight little hole. “Such a body,” he murmurs, “cannot be left in this condition. Do you have any lube?” Haru stares at him speechlessly. Asami chuckles again. “This is a one-time offer. I’ll fuck you. Right here, right now. If you have it, I’ll slick up your tight, hot little hole first. I’m hoping you do, because spit’s a mediocre substitute. I’ll give you that, but right afterwards, you’ll take my cock, all of it. Are you ready for that? You can wait until the day after tomorrow if you want. Then I’ll prepare your body for mine for as long as you wish it, finger you open until you’re a mindless, babbling mess. I’ll let you choose. Will you have me now, Haru, right now, tonight? It will hurt, I won’t lie. I’ve driven myself almost as wild with wanting you as I’ve driven you. But I won’t stop until we both come, baby boy. It’s up to you.”

 

“Yes!  Now. Oh, yes, please, Asami-sama. Right now,” Haru rushes to say. “There’s some in my backpack. In the front zipper. Aki put it there there other day. The tube looks like a panda.”

 

He’s babbling a little, still bent obediently over the edge of the futon as he watches Asami smirk and rummage through his bag. Oh God. Asami-sama is really going to fuck him.

 

Haru could practically weep at the prospect. Asami-sami’s going to make him come. Haru shudders helplessly, his spread thighs trembling. That Asami says it will hurt only makes his arousal spike deep in his belly with enough intensity that Haru has to squeeze his eyes shut and worry that he might just come completely  untouched .

 

A cool dollop of gel lands in the crease of his ass, and Haru gasps. Asami’s hands spread his welted cheeks, and the gel slides slowly down, slicking the puckered flesh of Haru’s twitching hole. “Please, Asami-sama,” Haru begs softly. “Oh, please.”

 

Asami hums softly and swirls his thumb through the cool, slippery gel around Haru’s asshole. He grins and plunges his thumb deeply inside the boy’s tight, warm body. Haru practically sobs with need as his twists and crooks his thumb, coating the snug confines with slick. Pulling it out with a wet sound, he grasps Haru’s hips in his strong hands, holding him steady and pulling his cheeks apart a little at the same time.

 

“There are going to be times,” he says softly, his voice hoarse with arousal, his fingers digging bruises into Haru’s hips, “when what I want is a tight, hot hole to fuck, here and now. I won’t always give you the choice I gave you tonight. Your body belongs to me, and I’ll pledge to you not to harm it. But I’ll never promise not to hurt you. Haru...sweet boy...sometimes all I’ll want is to hear you scream. It may not always seem fair, but I don’t have to be. Sometimes the only way out of a brutal fuck is to cry your way through it. Sometimes I’ll make it good for you, and sometimes I may want you to understand how harsh it can be. Tonight isn’t one of those times, but…” He grins again and nestles the head of his cock up against Haru’s sweet little pucker. “Oh look at this. Tch. What have I got here? A naughty little boy up past his curfew? Ah, ah. Such awful things happen to boys who don’t go to bed when they’re supposed to. Such wicked, bad things come out at night. Such a cute little boy too. It seems almost a shame to make this cute little hole all raw and sore.” He hitches his hips forwards just a little, the fat mushroom head of his cock spreading Haru’s rosy little pucker open a bit at a time. “Almost.”

 

With that, he forces his thick, heavy arousal past the tight, fluttering clench of his boy’s resisting ring of muscle and sinks it deep inside with one long, hard push. He doesn’t shove as brutally as he could, but he presses in steadily and unrelentingly until his balls are snug against Haru’s welted cheeks and he’s buried as far as he can get inside the snug little body.

 

The taking is accompanied by a low, guttural moan from Haru. His elbows bend and his front half sinks low until his chest rests against the futon, tilting his marked, tender bottom higher.  Oh, God, it burns. Asami’s thick shaft makes his hole throb from the intense stretch that seems to sear his insides. He does his best to breathe through it, caught like a quivering little butterfly beneath Asami, and,  oh , it’s exactly what he wants.

 

A hit of arousal hits him so hard that his knees tremble. He has to raise one to the edge of the futon and rest it there. It changes the angle of Asami’s penetration slightly, shifts and tugs inside him, and Haru groans with raw hunger.

 

“Ahh...Asami-sama. I can feel you...so...so...deep.”

Gods. Has there ever existed another human being with such a tantalizing balance of innocence and depravity? Asami growls at Haru in a low, possessive voice, dragging his cock most of the way out of the exquisite grip of his boy’s asshole.

 

“Mine,” he hisses. He knows he’s said it before. He doesn’t think he’s in any danger of getting tired of saying in any time in the next decade or so. “You’re  mine,  Haru. I’m far from disa...hah...pointed in you. Fuck.  Fuck  you’re so tight.” As he speaks, he rams back inside Haru’s body harder than before. Haru wails a little as the brutal pace of the fucking forces his body open too fast. The sound sends an almost crippling bolt of lust arcing through Asami’s body, tightening his balls. He could listen to the tantalizing little pain sounds Haru lets out in small cries and whimpers all day long. That they are interspersed with wanton, hungry moans makes it all the sweeter.

 

Haru’s choice of positioning in propping his knee on the arm of the futon tilts his pelvis just exactly so, and all Asami has to do to rub his cock over that one perfect spot inside Haru’s body is fuck into him as hard as he likes.

 

“When your project’s done,” he says, panting a little at the pace he’s setting and the brain-melting grip of Haru’s little hole, “I am going to fuck you until you pass out. And,” he grunts softly as he jackhammers his hips against Haru’s welted backside, “when you wake up, I’m going to do it again. Because I can. Because you’re  mine. ”

 

Haru sobs, dizzy from the sharp, quick gasps that barely feed him enough air and the drugging pleasure of Asami’s dominance. His words of ownership make Haru’s stomach squirm, his sore hole spasms and twitches around the invading flesh that sparks white lights behind the thin veil of his eyelids. He desperately wants to touch his own aching, leaking cock and at the same time he doesn’t.

 

It’s too exquisite to sink further into that sense of giving himself up utterly to another. To have his pleasure only at the command of his Master. To take the pain that makes the tears leak from his eyes and his throat raw and tight as he cries out with each unforgiving drive into his shuddering body.

 

It’s the only thing that keeps him from spilling his seed over the soft comforter beneath him--the pain that lances him with Asami’s every thrust. His body has been too skillfully drawn to the point of mindless, urgent need that permission or no, he’s helpless against the pleasure he can feel pooling in his groin, spreading toward the point of no return despite the inflicted strain and burn.

 

It’s all ties together so perfectly, stirs something primal and innate and almost unspeakable within him. Haru presses his face to the comforter, and he digs frantic handholds of the plush fabric and moans, curves the lines of his body in pure supplication.

 

“Ahh...A-Asami-sama...please...I can’t…” Haru whimpers. “...ngh...please...please may I come?”

  
  


“Do it,” hisses Asami through his teeth, pounding his cock relentlessly, mercilessly, into Haru’s utterly pliant body, the desperation in his plea fanning the flames that lick at his brain, his tightly drawn testicles, his cock where Haruki’s body sucks him in and grips him tight. “ Come,  Haru.”

 

The velvet embrace of his needy little boy’s hole quivers around his cruel invasion, Haru’s voice raw and helpless and hungry as he cries out Asami’s name. As he gasps, “Master,” and the sound of it, the beauty, slowly loosens the tightly-bound control he maintains over his body’s own desires. He looks at the place where their bodies join, feels white-hot lust claw at his belly and inside his skull and at the base of his spine at the sight. The reddened, stretched rim of Haru’s tormented hole clenching around the thick root of his erection, aching, forced wide to accept him, to welcome this violation. Haru sobs out his name and his eyes roll back into his skull at the sudden convulsive squeezing of his sore little hole around Asami’s cock.

 

Because he can, because he wants to feel the leap and pulse of it in his hand, Asami reaches around Haru’s upturned hips and grips his cock tightly in his hand, pumping it once, twice...Haru nearly screams when he shatters, coming helplessly, his seed wetting Asami’s fist and the soft cover of the futon, his asshole clamping down so tightly  that it almost hurts. No, it does hurt, and he loves it. Loves everything about fucking this boy,  his  boy, this beautiful, innocent, filthy creature….oh, how his instincts urge him to take and imprison and force all of it to acknowledge him, to chain Haru to him by whatever means necessary...except that he doesn’t have to. Every bit of it is laid freely at his feet. His to hold, to protect, to own and keep. And he can do it with his hands open wide, no need to close those figurative hands into fists around Haru’s bright soul, to risk snuffing out the very things about this boy which attract him so. Because Haru simply gives it all to him. Begs him, in fact, to take it. Take everything.

 

The hand not stroking Haruki’s pulsing cock clenches tightly on his hip, adding bruises to the bruises, but he cannot help it now. His own passion rides him, Haru’s  cries and the tight clutch of his body pulling him along, his own completion only moments behind Haru’s, hot and perfect.

 

The rush of endorphins leave Haru utterly languid and yielding, rocking with Asami’s final thrusts and spilling out soft, panting moans in time with each one. When Asami stills above him, Haru turns his face and presses his cheek onto the soft cover, gulping in the air his deprived lungs desperately need.

 

His nerve endings seem to thrum and quiver, and Haru feels as if he could quite happily melt right into the fluffy surface of the futon. All the simmering tension of the past week has dissolved with this quick and intense release, and his throat resonates with a low hum of blissful satiation.

 

His ass still burns and stings, and his legs are shaking, and he’s sticky and tired, his face itchy with dried tears, and Haru couldn’t be more content.  “Nnn...’Sami-sama…” he mumbles. “Feels good.”

 

“It most certainly does,” agrees Asami, then chuckles a little at the protesting noises Haru makes when he slowly withdraws from his body.  After putting his own clothing to rights, he snags a soft bathrobe off the back of a door (he can practically cross Haru’s entire apartment in three steps). Wrapping it around Haru, he sits on the futon and tumbles the younger man into his lap. Haru nuzzles softly against his throat, breathing deeply and making contented sounds. Asami wouldn’t trade the unbearably cute little sounds Haru and Aki make at times like this. He’d gotten to feed a tiger cub once, one of the perks at a zoo benefit for patrons who donated enough to sponsor an entire exhibit for a year. Asami actually has 4 exhibits dedicated to him, but doesn’t do it because of the patrons’ gala. He just agrees with conservation, and likes predators. The noises the little cub had made while he’d fed it remind him a great deal of the sounds Haru’s making right now. Asami lets him snuggle close until he can feel by the way his limbs slowly start to go lax that Haru is falling asleep. Though there are a few protests, he readies the futon and tucks the boy in bed. Haru looks up at him, blinking owlishly. Asami cups one soft cheek in his hand and smiles fondly.

 

“Go to sleep, sweet boy. You’ll be back with us the day after tomorrow, and you need your rest to finish your project. I’ll use that little cane on you as long as you like.” He kisses him, and it’s a testament to how exhausted Haru must actually have been that he’s barely conscious enough to return it. He slips quietly from the apartment and heads for home, satisfied with the night’s events.

  
  


Haru wakes up to the sound of his phone alarm, but instead of groaning and hiding under his pillow, he stretches languidly. His body protests a little, various aches and sore spots making themselves known, but that only brings a slow, sleepy smile to his face. He rolls over and touches the space next to him, drawing his fingers down the soft sheet. That’s the only thing that dampens his happy mood just a little.

 

He’s already become way too accustomed to waking up in bed that holds Asami-sama and Aki. Even though he’ll see them tomorrow, and he saw Asami-sama last night, he still misses both of them terribly. He’s probably just a little ridiculous because he talks to both of them on the phone at least once a day, and usually he and Aki text back and forth pretty much  all  day long. But he can’t help it, and he doesn’t care if he  is ridiculous. What he has now is so amazing that he  still  can’t believe it’s real.

 

He does roll over and hide his sheepish grin in the pillow and squirm a little, wallowing in the comfort of his warm bedding for just a bit longer. Today will be his toughest yet. He’s got to finish up his project, which requires proofing his final paper that goes along with it, making sure his sources are all properly cited and formatted, putting the fine details into his model and making sure it’s absolute perfection, and then polishing his oral presentation.

 

After that, he’ll just have to present it to his perfectionist professor tomorrow--the Demon of the Architecture Department. Haru spares a moment to feel sorry for the students his professor doesn’t particularly like because he’s one of Tanaka-sensei’s favorites, and the man still terrifies him. Though this project is a huge part of his grade, Haru wants to do well more for the respect he might earn from Tanaka-sensei than anything else. Before he’d come to teach at the University, he’d worked in the field for years, highly respected and sought after, and Haru knows there’s so much more he could learn from him.

 

Those thoughts finally drive him out of bed, without the need for a cold shower for once. Haru starts off his day refreshed and focused, though a number of small mishaps throughout the day gradually build his stress level again. A dying laptop battery, a desperate search for a recently saved copy of his paper, a painstaking recreation of the portions he isn’t able to retrieve, delays on the subway, a clumsy classmate who crashes into his work area when he’s trying to affix a particularly tricky piece that results in a minor break and a meticulous repair that takes entirely too long.

 

He’s afraid that his last text to Aki comes off way too abrupt, even though he sends a quick apology as soon as he can and explains that he’s just trying to keep his head above water at this point. By the time Haru makes it back home, there’s only time for a cup of hot noodles before he has to go over his presentation again and again. He practices it until his voice is hoarse, and then tries to come up with possible questions his professor might throw at him and formulate responses that will keep him from sounding like a complete idiot tomorrow.

 

When he finally falls into bed, just on the edge of his curfew, he’s cranky and exhausted, but he sends off a short text to Aki to say goodnight. When an immediate text back isn’t forthcoming, he sighs and hopes that Aki is just busy and not mad at him from earlier.

He hasn’t heard from Asami-sama either, but then he doesn’t expect to after yesterday’s events, and Haru knows Asami has his own much bigger project on his plate now. He might even be still at work.

 

Even though he’s grateful that last night had put a stop to the nightly teasing from Asami, Haru can’t help feeling just a little bit wistful too. He  does miss them, especially at night when things are quiet and his tiny little apartment feels remarkably empty.

 

On the heels of that self-pitying little thought, the phone rings. Haru grins.  Aki. He rolls to grab his phone and swipes it on with his thumb. “Aki, I was wondering if you were ignoring me.”

 

Instead of Aki’s energetic tones, a deep voice purrs in his ear, “Hello, Haru-kun. Have you been a good boy today?”

 

“Asami-sama?” Haru is struck dumb for a moment. The last thing he expected was for Asami to call him now with that same line he’d used all week to start his merciless teasing.

  
  


“You were expecting someone else?” he chuckles. Haru stammers for a moment. So cute.

 

“No...I...I...that is I just thought that since...well, last night…” says Haru a little lamely.

 

“Believe me, Haru-kun,” he says wickedly, “I’m well familiarized with your powers of recovery. Just because you were well-satisfied last night doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of having naughty thoughts today.”

 

Haru can’t seem to come up with an argument for that. As it happens, Asami has spoken to Akihito and knows Haru has had a stressful day which had nothing to do with sex whatsoever.

 

“Your presentation is tomorrow,” he points out needlessly. “And I’m willing to wager a significant portion of my considerable wealth that you are lying there in your bed dwelling on it,  second guessing everything you’ve done to prepare, and worrying that your Sensei is not going to like it.”

 

“That’s a bet you’d win,” says Haru reluctantly.

 

“So, since ordering you to stop thinking about it would be setting you up to disobey me, I’m going to take your mind off it.”

 

“Oh,” says Haru faintly. Asami chuckles, as he can almost see the expression on the boy’s face, wondering how on earth sexual frustration is supposed to make it any easier to sleep than dwelling on his presentation.

 

“What time will you be done tomorrow?”

 

“Ah...t-two o’clock, Asami-sama.”

 

“How fortunate that I’ve cleared my schedule for the afternoon. The limo will pick you up at your apartment after class. I’d advise you to pack for the week. You’ve got a week’s absence to make up for, and believe me, you’re going to need every spare minute. Suoh can take you to and from school. Akihito says that on the days he doesn’t have work, you can use the Vespa. But aside from classes, Haru-kun, I don’t intend to let you out of my clutches.” He not surprised that Haruki has no objections to this at all. “We’ve grown used to waking up in a bed that has you in it,” he adds softly, wondering a little at the muffled gasp Haru fails to entirely conceal when he says it.  

 

“Yes, Asami-sama,” he whispers.

 

“Just think, sweet boy. Tomorrow you’ll be getting  so  much more than a measly two-dozen spanks with a little twig. I’ll give you two-dozen for every day you’ve been away from us, but not as punishment. It will be your reward for being a good boy this week, even though you were terribly frustrated and tempted to touch yourself. Weren’t you?”

 

“Oh...I was,” sighs Haru.

 

“Every day, your poor, pretty cock was so lonely, so  hard.  Aching to be touched, all the filthy things I said tormenting you, day in and out, even in your dreams. The spankings I promised, introducing you to the flogger, how I promised to teach you to crawl properly. That I’ll put you back on the spreader bar, like I did the night I showed you what happens when bad little boys can’t keep their hands off themselves...only this time it would be to keep you spread open wide for me. I’ll make you watch, hard and aching...while I give Akihito his spanking for trying to convince my other pet to run down his phone battery to avoid my phone calls.”

 

“Oh, Asami-sama,” protests Haru anxiously.

 

“Don’t worry. I’m not angry with him either. Oh, he’ll cry a little, but Haru...he craves that. And you love watching it, you filthy little boy. Watching his face, his eyes wide and frantic, tears shining on his face, the way he sounds when he cries, so hungry. You’ll be hard the whole time. And Haru...when I’ve finished, it’s YOU who’ll be getting fucked while he watches. And you won’t be wearing a cock ring. He will. Can you imagine it? His sweet mouth on your cock, sucking you down, whimpering and lifting his hips so desperately, my cock deep in your tight little hole, so deep, so hard. I’ll let you choose which of the roleplays you dirty boys talked about off that delightful checklist. Which will it be, Haru-kun? Will you be my naughty harem-boys again? Misbehaving schoolboys? My prisoners? Filthy little rentboys I’ve paid to do exactly what I want?  Whatever you can imagine, Haru, it’s yours.”

 

On the other end of the line, Haru whimpers. Asami grins. He’s not thinking about his presentation at all right now.

 

“Are you touching yourself, dirty boy?”

 

“Wh-what?” stammers Haru. “Asami-sama, no! I wouldn’t...I mean...no!”

 

“Whyever not?” purrs Asami. “I suppose if you  want  to find out if I can make you come with my voice alone...without the aid of aphrodisiacs, of course...that’s fine, but I think you’d be in frantic condition by the time you managed it. And I want you to sleep at some point tonight. Take your cock out of your pants, Haru-kun. Take it out and stroke it. Just your fingertips at first, make yourself hard and hot for me…”

 

A breathless laugh escapes him, and hardly believing Asami-sama is indulging him  again , Haru pushes the band of his pajama pants down and does as Asami says. His fingertips barely brush the skin from the base of his cock where his balls are gathered close in the confines of his briefs, all the way up to the plump, satiny soft head. The command to make himself hard and hot comes a little late because as soon as he lifts his hips and shoves his pants down over his hips, his cock unfurls from its cramped state and points up to his navel like a compass needle finding true North. It certainly doesn’t take anything more than Asami-sama’s voice to accomplish  that .

 

He draws in his breath in a long, slow hiss as his fingertip presses into the tiny slit, it comes away with a miniscule pinprick of moisture, and Haru trails the same finger around the ridge of flesh and oh so softly rubs at the sensitive little flesh at the jointure of shaft and head. His cock twitches, and Haru gasps.

 

All his stresses of the day are long forgotten. It feels so good to release it, let Asami-sama take over, and to know that he’ll be taken care of, that he can trust him so implicitly.

 

“I thought…when you called. Oh, I thought that you were...” Haru admits. “That this…”

 

“What did you think?” Asami murmurs. “That I’d tease you, that I’d make want to cry with need, that I’d whisper dirty words that make you writhe and squirm like a shameless little slut? That your cruel Master would torment you until you could think of nothing else, nothing but me and how much you want what I can give your greedy little body, and then leave you aching and desperate, my poor, sweet, tormented boy?”

 

A strangled sound something like a whimper comes from Haru. “Ahhh...y-yes,” Haru confesses softly.

 

“Well, of course I’ll do all those things,” Asami says with dark humor. “All that and more because it’s what I want. It’s what you need, little boy.”

 

“Oh...but...” Haru cuts off his anguished protest, but his body floods with the realization that he must have misunderstood.

 

“But what?” Asami purrs. “You can’t be so desperate already can you?”

 

“Yes,” Haru cries. “Yes, I can.”

 

Asami’s rich chuckle resonates in Haru’s ear. “Then I suppose, just this once, I shouldn’t leave you that way for  too long.”

 

“A-Asami-sama?” The hopeful question he makes of Asami’s name, make him chuckle again, and Haru’s lower lip sticks out just a tiny bit in a pout. He  is teasing him. Well, Haru isn’t completely helpless. He’ll give some of it back to his Master this time. “I...I’m still touching myself. It’s...my c-cock is so hard. But it became like that when you started talking to me, saying all those things about what you were going to do. Ohh…” Haru blushes, but he sighs deeply and his fingers brush over his balls, circling the soft skin. “I...I think about it...you teaching me to crawl for you. What I’ll look like. What it will feel like. If...if you’ll like it. It makes my stomach feel all strange and hot when I think about it, and I can hardly sit still. I just...I want...at your feet...looking up to you...my Master…unhh…” Haru’s cock twitches again, untouched on his belly. “Will...will it please you?”

  
  


“Haru,” whispers Asami, struck nearly speechless that  that  is what Haru is reacting to most strongly. Has there ever been a boy better suited to this? To all that Asami can teach him? His own arousal at Haru’s soft words surprises him. He’s the one in charge here, the one with the incredibly unfair gift for oral...as in spoken...sex. He’s at an advantage. And can count on one hand...on  HALF  a hand….the number of times he’s masturbated in the last ten years. He hasn’t needed to, or much wanted to either. He’s had a willing partner for sexual release every time he’s felt the slightest urge. Except now...now the things Haru says hit him low and deep in his gut and ignite a slow burn there. If the boy was here, he’d be getting one hell of a ride. But he’s not, and Asami cannot make Haru wait for him to get a car and drive across town again. He needs to sleep in order to be ready for his presentation. He could awaken Akihito, who has gone to bed early tonight due to having gotten up before sunrise to do an early morning shoot, but that’s not what he wants to do. He wants  Haru.

 

“Haru,” he repeats a bit hoarsely, “you can’t know how much it will please me. Thinking of it...it arouses me. You will be exquisite. To watch you crawl to me, your naked body revealing your desire for me, your hunger and your….your devotion...in your eyes? They shine, Haru, when you look at me, when you give yourself to me. So beautiful. Then to make you kneel before me, your hands behind your back, your thighs spread so wide they tremble with the strain, your pretty cock quivering, dripping with need, so very exposed….I’ll teach you to open my pants with your lips and teeth. I’ll already be hard, Haru. Like I am now. Oh yes...does that surprise you? Does my boy want me to share this pleasure with him? Would you like it if I took my cock in hand right now, because of you?” His fingers are already at his zipper, because Haru’s answer isn’t really in doubt, but he wants to hear it anyway.

 

“Oh, yes,” Haru breathes. “Yes, Master.”

 

The question excites him beyond belief, thrills him with the knowledge that his Master feels it too, that he’s revealing this to him.

 

His thighs spread wide in unconscious response to the picture Asami has painted inside his head. Haru’s eyes flutter shut, and he sees himself just like that on his knees, aching, offered up to his Master’s pleasure. The small, pink tip of his tongue slips between his parted lips and Haru’s mouth works gently. He imagines his skin against the fine fabric of Asami-sama’s slacks, his cheek pressing against the outline of his Master’s cock, it’s impressive length and girth snugly contained until Haru is told to release it.

 

The taste of metal on his tongue almost seems real, the zipper licked up delicately by the tip of his tongue, pulled between his lips, his teeth, and then oh so carefully tugged down. He’ll take a moment and breathe in Asami-sama’s musky scent, feel the pulsing heat pushing through the last barrier of the black briefs, press a fervent kiss to the covered flesh. And finally, when he’s managed to pull away the confining fabric, and his Master’s cock unveils before him, Haru will be be allowed to taste it too.

 

He imagines the moment when his tongue slips under the not quite hard shaft, when he sucks it into his mouth, caresses it with his lips and the silky soft sheath of his inner cheeks; his tastebuds connected to his arousal like a lit trail of black gunpowder. His jaws will stretch and ache as Asami-sama hardens fully, and he’ll arch his throat to take him deeper, take all his Master has to offer.

 

Haru moans softly. His own cock throbs against his belly, a thin trickle of fluid seeping down from the shiny slit. “Master…”

  
  


“Tell me,” growls Asami softly. “tell me what you’re thinking about.”

 

Haru does, a little haltingly, embarrassed because he doubts his ability to choose the right words that will weight what he says with the heat of arousal, but his very inexperience excited Asami beyond telling. His fingers close around the turgid weight of his erection and he strokes slowly, humming out a small sound of approval at Haru’s breathless, hesitant words.

 

“My good boy,” he murmurs throatily. “I want it exactly as you say. You’ll keep your hands behind your back, of course. It may take you a few tries to accomplish without the use of your fingers, but I won’t mind. I’ll feel your hot breath on my cock through my pants, my underwear, and it will just make the anticipation sweeter.” His throat clicks a little when he swallows, and he takes a deep breath. Haru whimpers. “I love the feel of your warm mouth, your sweet little tongue on the head of my cock, tasting me. I love watching you struggle to take me in deeper. The little frown between your eyebrows. I’ll love looking down between your legs and seeing you, so hard for me, aching and wet. Sometimes I want to fist my hands in your hair and force my cock down your throat, you arouse me so. But I won’t. Haru, don’t fear that. I won’t do it. I’ll let you practice and lick and suck my cock and my balls for as long as you want. But I won’t come. Nn. Are you close, sweet boy?”

 

“Y-yes, Asami-sama,” gasps Haru.

 

“I won’t come,” continues Asami, stroking himself faster, his grip a little tighter, his thumb stroking across the moisture at the head, then down over the sensitive knot of nerves at the base of his glans. He sighs, lets his hips arch upwards as he imagines Haru there with him, naked and so needy, his slim hips working eagerly as he worships Asami’s cock with his mouth. “Because when your jaws are aching and your tongue is tired, I’m going to give you what you’re waiting for like such a good boy. I’ll make you beg first, Haru. I like to do it. Like the sound of you, whimpering and so very wanton in your desire for me. ‘Please oh please, Master. Please fuck me. I want you so bad. Want you inside me. Please fuck me. Oh, hard, so hard, anything you want, anything...just  please! ’”

 

Haru whimpers again, and Asami’s lips curve into a filthy smile even as heat surges and his cock jerks in his hand.

 

“Then I’ll teach you how to present yourself to your Master for fucking, Haru-kun. You’ll turn your back to me, only using your knees to turn. then unclasp your hands. Your movements should me slow, purposeful. Graceful. You’ll rise up on your knees and put your hands on the floor in front of you, sliding forwards slowly, sliding your hands outwards as though you’re reaching for something, but keeping them on the floor, your body leaning slowly forwards, arching your back, spreading your thighs. I’ll be able to see you opening for me as you slowly lower your upper body to the floor, your hands stretched out in front of you and flat on the floor, your hips lifted high, your naked ass raised up for me. I’ll watch your little round cheeks part a little, be able to see your tight little hole, your balls and hard cock between your legs. Hah. I’ll slide from the chair, finger your little pucker slowly, opening you, softening you for my cock. Oh...Haru….then I’ll fuck you. I’ll push my cock inside you all the way, so deep, with one thrust. It burns, doesn’t it, baby boy? Aches inside. Hurts you. And you love it. Hn. You love it so much, even when you cry from the burn of it, because it’s everything you want. Taken by your Master. Deep and hard, owning you. You’ll take it for me, not move from your position, because you’re my good boy. Hah. Mine. You’ll come for me that way too, without your hand or mine on your aching cock, just from the feel of me fucking you. Haru...soon. So soon. It won’t be a fantasy, you’ll be feeling it,  filling you, opening you,  fucking  you. Can you come for me, sweet boy? I’ll come when you do. Thinking of you. Come for me, Haru….Ah. Now.”

 

Haru’s slender body arcs up off the bed as if pulled by an invisible string. His face contorts and a garbled cry catches in his throat as his breath seizes. His lungs burn for oxygen, but Haru remains a pale, burning statue, poised in the throes of his climax. Only his cock jerks and spasms in the loose circle of his fingers, painting his taut belly with his hot release. A series of almost anguished sounding moans finally emerges as he collapses against the bedding and sucks in mouthfuls of air, forcing his hand to keep moving just barely on his sensitized shaft until he can’t bear even that light brush.

 

His tongue is thick and heavy in his mouth, and he swallows, trying to formulate a coherent thought after Asami-sama’s sensual onslaught. His senses are full of his Master, drowning in him. God, he can even hear his Master’s breath in his ear, fast and hard and for  him .

 

With just his voice alone, Haru thinks in wonder, he manages to give him everything he craves.

 

“Oh,  Master ,” Haru whispers feverishly. “I  want it...tomorrow...everyday...whenever you please...anything you want me to take...anything you want to take...it’s yours...just for you…”

  
  


Asami throws his head back when he hears Haru’s anguished, fractured cry, his breath harsh in his lungs, balls tightening, tingling, his cock pulsing in his hand. He’s managed to whip a clean handkerchief out of his vest pocket before he makes a mess out of bespoke vicuna, but only just. Gods. Like a fucking teenager. Haru will make a younger man of him if he doesn’t kill him first. He can’t decide just now which is the likelier scenario.  He makes you a BETTER man, says the voice in his head, the one that refuses to let him make a mess of things with the two best things he’s ever touched. They don’t know how they’ve saved him.

 

“Ah. Haru,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’ll never get tired of the sounds you make. Not if I live a hundred years. All, Haru. Everything. I’ll take everything you can give me. I’ll...damn it….I will do my fucking best not to make you regret it. Just...try and remember that when I’m being a bastard. Do you feel less worried now?”

 

“Yes, ‘Sami-sama,” says Haru, sounding a little sleepy. Asami thinks he might just drop the “A” off the beginning of his name officially, so that Haru will always pronounce it as adorably as he does when he’s sated and in such a lovely headspace.

 

“Good. Get some sleep, sweet boy. Suoh will be at your apartment around 2:45 to pick you up. I’ll be done with work by then, and Akihito and I will be waiting for you. I know your presentation will be stellar. It can’t be anything less, because you wrote it.”

 

“Yes, Master,” whispers Haru. 

 

“Oh, and Haru-kun?”

 

“Yes, Master?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Haru’s voice clears a little when he asks what Asami means. Asami smiles and pictures the expression on his boy’s face when he answers.

 

“Yes, Haru. What you want? All of it. Tomorrow.”


	13. Clubbing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While doing a dirty little photo session for which Aki's conned poor Haru into getting into a ridiculous (but very hot) costume, the boys start to talk about Fetish Clubs and what it would be like to go back to the Black Rose, the three of them together. Asami approves, so plans are made and the big night arrives!
> 
> Please note that this "chapter" has gotten so long that we're dividing it up. Unsurprisingly, it has gotten away from us but we think you're really going to enjoy it, so we don't want to cut it short. We'll just be feeding it to you in sections.
> 
> ALSO NOTE THAT THIS IS A VIEWFINDER AU AND CONTAINS AN OC AS PART OF ASAMI AND AKIHITO'S CANON RELATIONSHIP!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neither of us pretends to be an expert on the Asian BDSM scene. I am personally taking knowledge earned first-hand at clubs in the United States when I write about the rules, protocols, and about some of the things that go on there. Some of it is completely made up to go with the flavor of this story and these characters, and we by no means intend to offend anyone. It is a work of fiction that nevertheless has a great many of the depictions of BDSM based in factual experiences one of the Authors has had in real life, but other parts are pure fantasy.

"Will you stop  squirming ? Geez, you're worse than the time I had to do a photo shoot with a Shiba Inu puppy in a clown suit!" Aki peers through the viewfinder and frames his lover in the shot.

 

Haru currently looks like something out of a particularly pornographic version of Ao no Exorcist, slouching on top of the heavy leather spanking bench in the play room wearing tight leather pants which leave nothing to the imagination, black kohl eyeliner, lip stain, and a bondage harness that crisscrosses his chest and abdomen and disappears into the waistband of the pants where they cling to his hip bones. He looks over his shoulder at Aki, shoving one tattered black wing out of the way so he can glare more effectively. He scratches at the short, curling black horn sprouting from his messy black hair.

 

"It  itches ," Haru grumbles, flashing just the tip of one pointy white fang behind his slightly sullen but not  quite pouting lips.

 

Aki ignores him and snaps images as fast as he can, because Haru's impossibly adorable and outrageously sexy wearing that expression, fitting his role as a little fallen demon boy who is far too naughty for Heaven and not nearly evil enough for Hell. The scruffy black wings sprout from his shoulder blades thanks to being attached to the back of the harness. The molded resin horns are affixed to his head by a virtually invisible clear elastic band, but had shown a tendency to slip, so Aki had attacked him with bobby pins, the source of Haru's current irritation. He pauses in his rapid shutter clicking and grins at Haru.

 

"You're so hot like that. Just a few more, okay?"

 

Haru sighs but he grins back, leaving the bobby pins alone and acquiesces with reasonable good humor. At least as much good humor as he can manage with pins jabbed into his scalp and one of the leather straps rubbing a sore spot on his back where the wing pulls it out of position and his left fang insisting on jabbing him in the bottom lip when he tries to smile for very long.

 

"Okay, but you owe me."

 

"I'll bend you over that horse and pull your pants down just enough to get at you, and I'll spank you while you squirm around and whimper and then I'll suck you off, right here, as long as you want. That work for you?" Aki's glad he'd thought to call Asami before they started the photo shoot because he'd suspected this end result and isn't interested in having to pause to ask Asami's permission before he jumps Haru.  


 

Haru makes a sound that is heartily approving and rolls over to lie on his belly on the padded sawhorse, resting his chin in his hands, kicking his legs up in the air behind him and giving the camera the very best sultry look he can manage, which is just too cute for words.

 

"D'you think people actually dress like that?" Akihito asks curiously as he feverishly snaps away.

"Not the wings and stuff. I mean the rest. When you were in that club, did they look like you do now?"

 

"Oh..." Haru unthinkingly chews at his bottom lip, a hazardous endeavor given the fangs he's currently sporting, and looks away as a faint blush suffuses his cheeks. "Yeah...I mean, some of them did. A lot of people were just dressed in regular clothes. But the people who were...you know... doing things , a lot of them were wearing at least  some leather or things like that." Haru's blush deepens. "Or they were completely naked."

 

"Really?" Akihito's fingers go still around his camera, and his fascination is obvious in his voice. "And they just walked around like that?"

 

"I think mostly they stayed in the areas set up for them to...to play. That's what they called it there." Haru looks back at Akihito with a look of remembered discomfort and the present remains of old guilt. "To be honest I could hardly even look at anyone else. It was so embarrassing being there all by myself. I felt really uncomfortable until..." His voice drops along with his gaze. "Until Murakawa introduced himself to me."

 

"Haru..." Akihito begins, but Haru interrupts with a quick smile.

 

"It was pretty intense, though. And I could  hear stuff, even if I wasn't looking much."

 

Akihito thinks about that. Hearing stuff. Other people, doing the things Asami does with them. On the heels of this comes the thought of Asami doing those things to him while those people are watching or listening. He lifts his eyes to meet Haru's. He's got one of those expressions on his face that Aki can't leave alone, remembering that night and what he's remembering are the bad parts, not what came of all of it in the end. His self-deprecating, rueful little smile and the shadow of memory on his face added to the costume he's wearing suddenly takes what had been dirty and a little silly and light-hearted and turns it into something more.

 

Aki stumbles a little as he takes one step back and captures Haru in a frozen moment that quite takes his breath away as he glances down at the camera's screen. Still draped across the padded horse, the scruffy, unkempt little demon boy with tattered wings and a sexy pout peers at the camera. Clad in the trappings of his station. Someone's toy. The faraway look and rueful smile now turn him into something exquisitely beautiful and touching. He lets the camera dangle from its strap around his neck and is beside Haru again in one stride, his hands sliding into dark, silky hair below the curly little horns. Aki makes a hungry sound in his throat when their mouths collide.

 

"Damn, Haru. Fuck," he mutters as their tongues tangle. "You're...you're...shit!" He exclaims as the sharp little fangs cut his lip. Haru makes a muffled sound that is equal parts pain and pleasure as he cuts his own tongue as well. Aki backs off, panting, the bright copper tang of blood in his mouth. Haru watches him, eyes dark, lips parted.

 

"Aki," he whispers.

 

"Don't move," says Aki, fumbling for the camera. In the last pictures he takes for a while, the little demon's tongue touches the corner of his mouth, lips and chin smeared with their mingled blood, pupils blown. Then the back of his left hand swipes at the stain while the right reaches out towards Aki, palm up, fingers curled in a "Come back," gesture. The camera doesn't capture what happens when Akihito does.

 

"I think we need to go back," Akihito says later, his chin on Haru's tummy, eyes rolled so he can look up, watching as Haru picks bobby pins out of his hair.

 

"Go back?" asks Haru warily.

 

"To that club. But...together. I think we should get Asami to take us. I mean, obviously sometime in his life he used to go to places like that a lot. So why doesn't he anymore? Because of us? I think we need to know what it's like, what other people who're into this shit do. Whaddya say?"

 

Haru takes a long moment before answering. He  has thought about it before--going to a club like that, but  with Asami-sama... as Asami-sama's. Only, he's always imagined himself at some far off, future moment of hazy perfection where his training has smoothed away most of his rough edges, and his presence at Asami-sama's side...or at his feet, would do his Master's teaching justice.

 

Still, the idea is irresistibly compelling. His stomach squirms a little as he thinks about Asami-sama taking them to such a place. He  would like to see what other people do, especially how the other submissives act.

 

"Do you think Asami-sama would want to take us?" Haru asks. God, what would Asami's expectations be under those circumstances. Would he just want them to watch or…

 

Haru thinks about all the possibilities, unsure if it's trepidation or unholy excitement that makes his skin go warm all over.

 

"Do  you really want to?" Haru rolls up on his elbows and peers down at Aki, who sits up, too, and grins at the hopeful eagerness that radiates from Haru.

 

"I just said so, didn't I?" Akihito laughs. "And I'm pretty sure Asami  likes showing off what he thinks belongs to him. He'll go just to satisfy his ego."

 

Haru snorts laughter into his palm, even as he shakes his head at Aki. "You'd better be careful, or you'll end up on one of those big crosses I saw there, getting your backside turned red."

 

"Do you think he would?" asks Aki keenly, wriggling a little as they grin into each other’s faces and Aki thinks once again how hot Haru looks in the eyeliner and fangs, made more so by the fact that there is still a tiny smear of blood on his lips. An idea for an entire photo series begins to percolate in his brain, but the scandalized thrill of imagining Asami spanking him in front of a room full of people shoves it to the back burner.

 

"Does he think I would what?"

 

Aki jerks a little and turns his head to look at Asami, who leans casually in the door frame, still wearing his work clothes, which Aki privately thinks is kind of cute with his socks but never intends to tell him. Usually he sheds at least the coat at the door. It makes Akihito wonder how long he’s been standing there.

 

"Do I think you’d spank him in front of a room full of people," chirps Haru helpfully. Asami’s eyebrow lifts a little as he turns an assessing gaze on his little slave-in-training.

 

"What an absurd question," he murmurs absently, looking Haru over from head to toe. "He knows I would. What have you done to Haru, Akihito?"

 

"Turned him into a demon."

 

"Why does that involve a bondage harness?"

 

"Because he’s a lesser demon. He’s a greater demon’s toy."

 

"Are you intending to try to put wings and horns on me as well?"

 

"If you’ll let me."

 

"Interesting." He steps into the room and prowls around the padded horse, cautioning Haru to be still with a sharp "Ah-ah," when Haru starts to sit up, looking nervous. "What will you give me in exchange?"

 

"Nothing," mutters Aki, pouting a little as he envisions his plan sailing out the window. "I don’t have anything you don’t own ten of, and...you’ve already got everything you want from me, you said so yesterday. I was just gonna ask you."

 

"Hm." says Asami, running his hand up Haru’s thigh to rest on his round backside. "Very well, I’ll indulge you. He’s delicious. Now will the two of you tell me why you look so jumpy you’re about to pop?"

 

Aki looks at Haru with his eyebrows raised, as if to ask if he’s sure. Haru, who still looks a little nervous under Asami’s perusal, nods.

 

"We want you to take us to Black Rose," he blurts, twisting his hands together nervously. He doesn’t know why it makes him nervous. How angry Asami had been to see Haru leaving with a man like Murakawa, perhaps?

 

"Really? How interesting. Of course I’ll take you. Tomorrow is Friday. Saturday has the biggest crowd, so I’d suggest we go tomorrow night if you don’t want to see nothing but a press of bodies."

 

Aki looks at Haru with wide eyes. All of a sudden it feels like things are happening awfully fast. Haru stares back, but is diverted when Asami’s palm suddenly connects loudly with the leather covering his ass and he’s hauled back to the end of the bench so that his legs dangle down and his toes just barely reach the floor.

 

"Hey! You’re manhandling my model," cries Akihito, trying for outrage and failing miserably when Haru’s startled exclamation makes him laugh. "What the hell?"

 

"I’m pulling his pants down," explains Asami unnecessarily as he reaches around to unbutton them. "They’re in my way."

 

Haru finds himself unceremoniously bare-assed and positioned over the bench before he or Aki can form a response. Asami hasn't bothered to peel the pants all the way down, and the fabric catches on the end of the padded surface, forcing Haru's bottom even higher than intended. It doesn't seem to bother Asami, who efficiently buckles his wrists to the sides of the bench. His wings settle over him, probably rumpled and askew, and the tips of the bottom feathers graze his sides.

 

He shivers when Asami's fingers trail over his upthrust cheeks.

 

"Hm...it seems my little demon has already had his cute little ass warmed up a bit." Asami cocks his head and studies the bound boy. "That shade of pink does look rather good on him."

 

"It does, doesn't it?" Akihito says proudly. The sound of a shutter whirring finally makes Haru protest.

 

"Aki! Don't take pictures of that!"

 

"On the contrary, Akihito. I give you permission to take as many pictures as you like while we try to choose just which shade of red is our favorite. This will take a while." He takes off his jacket and sets it aside. Haru can see him when he walks to the wall of discipline implements and begins to roll up his shirt sleeves. "Personally, I anticipate favoring bright crimson."

 

Akihito laughs quietly and circles around Haru, snapping pictures.

 

Haru makes a face at Akihito, but he hastily tries to smooth it out when Asami turns around and catches his eye. His stomach lurches when one brow arches and Asami shoots him a cool look. But he sees the amusement warming his gaze.

 

"I can see that I have a very naughty little demon on my hands," Asami observes, flexing a black, leather crop in his hands.

 

Haru allows an impudent smirk to spread over his face. "I don't think demons are known for their goodness, Asami-sama."

 

Asami nods once, conceding the point, and the crop cracks against his open palm. Haru and Aki both jump, and Akihito curses, gripping his camera more tightly, but he doesn't stop taking pictures as Asami advances with a wicked grin.

 

Over the next hour, Haru's backside is treated to several implements that Asami favors, and his gradually reddening bottom is introduced to some that he hasn't had the pleasure of being acquainted with before. Asami keeps up a running monologue during his demonstration of just how they might be used in a club scene, and the limitations and peculiarities of each one.

The photo shoot is temporarily halted when Aki unwisely mutters about Asami's lecturing fetish making another appearance, and he's bent over and spanked with the hole-filled paddle Asami is currently holding.

 

Eventually, with the aid of the digital display on Akihito's camera, Asami and a still smarting Aki finally come to agreement that photo 237 of Haru's raw bottom, and the particular shade of magenta the abused cheeks display, is the most pleasing of the day.

 

Haru sniffles into the leather padding and pouts as Akihito shows him the picture of his glowing ass. It's so embarrassing, but Asami's fingers stroke through his hair and his deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. Haru peeks up at him when his wrists are undone, but his tentative smile turns into a pained yelp as Asami pulls him to his feet and tugs his pants back up his sore butt.

 

He's even more embarrassed because he's still half hard from the sustained spanking, and trying to fasten up the front of his pants isn't easy, especially with Asami's knowing, amused gaze on him.

 

Akihito shoots him a sympathetic grin, but he sits on the edge of the bench and demands of Asami, "So we're going then for sure? Tomorrow night?" He bounces one leg excitedly. "This is gonna be cool!"

 

Asami refrains from rolling his eyes at Akihito's exuberance. It is rather charming, even though the boy hasn't a real clue yet what he's getting into.

 

It’s not quite as simple as dressing up in fetish clothing and parading off to the club. Asami can tell by the repeated faces Akihito makes when he rounds them up and takes them into the living room to talk about it that he finds it tedious. He’s never, however, been above threats.

 

"Akihito," Asami says placidly, indicating with a nod of his head at Haru that he’d like him to sit at hii feet, which Haru does obediently, even if he winces a little. "If you’re incapable of behaving yourself during this conversation, I shall be forced to punish you."

 

"Oh no, not that," quips Aki, rolling his eyes and then grinning unrepentantly.

 

"By not spanking you for a week," finishes Asami heartlessly. Aki looks aghast and sits down on the sofa on Haru’s other side. Haru lays his head on Asami’s knee and wraps an arm around Akihito’s calf, sighing contentedly. Both of them look at Asami attentively.

 

"There are going to be some rules and conditions," he says warningly. "Firstly, you’ll have to obey the club’s rules. No alcohol if you plan to play, or if there’s even a possibility of it. There’s a colored name tag system. Haru wasn’t wearing one when we...hm...retrieved him...so I can only assume he missed the check-in table in his nervous state?"

 

Haru blushes and nods, hiding his face against Asami’s leg. He smiles and runs his fingers gently through his boy’s hair, finding a stray bobby pin that he works free and hands to Akihito.

 

"Seriously?" says Aki, flicking it back at him. "People at fetish clubs wear those 'Hello My Name Is' name tags?"

 

"Not precisely. Club members have engraved nametags. I used to be a member but let my membership lapse three years ago because I just didn’t attend often enough for it to be worth my while. Black Rose isn’t a bad club, but it’s open to anyone, so most of the more discerning members of the lifestyle consider it slumming. Oh don’t look at me like that. It’s perfect for our purposes, because there aren’t as many protocols to remember, and there aren’t likely to be any people there I wouldn’t want Akihito to offend. Or who will be judging either of you."

 

"So you won’t have to worry about us embarrassing your arrogant ass," mutters Aki. Haru looks a little stricken at this and Asami narrows his eyes at Aki.

 

"I don’t think you’re going to enjoy paying the price for that little comment, Akihito," he says coolly. Aki notices the expression on Haru’s face and winces.

 

"I’m sorry, Haru," he says contritely. "It’d really only be me who’d embarrass him anyway."

 

"Nametags are plain white with a colored border in 3 colors, plus a plain white option without a border. The plain white tags indicate you are merely there to observe and are either new to the scene and have not yet decided your orientation, or simply don’t wish to be approached. A red border means you are a bottom or sub. Blue means you’re a switch, and gold means you’re a top of Dominant. The tags which have a second pinstripe inside the border mean you’re taken. You’ll wear red tags of that sort, on which you’ll write my name inside parentheses...this tells others who you belong to….and your own names...or the ones you wish to be called. Many people have a scene name they use in place of their own names. I’ll leave that choice up to you. I’ve found it pointless to use a scene name. Too many people recognize me from magazines, newspaper articles, television and the like."

 

“Will it be okay,” Haru asks worriedly. “If it will cause you problems, then we don’t have to go.”

 

Asami laughs openly, then takes pity on Haru’s confusion.

 

“Really, you’re adorable. Haruki...the only people from whom I’ve ever hidden the extent of my involvement in the lifestyle are Akihito, and to a lesser degree, you. Not out of shame, but out of wanting to accustom you both to it, ease you into it. I merely meant I don’t choose to use a scene name to protect my real name because everyone already knows it. You boys may choose for yourselves whether you’d like a scene name, because you have careers you plan to build. Haru, the only reason you get a choice is because I anticipate that you will be a very successful architect indeed, and if you wish to keep the nature of your...mm...hobbies a secret, I’ll respect that.”

 

Aki gets a speculative look on his face and then starts to snicker. Asami can SEE the wheels starting to turn in his agile little brain as he begins to consider scene names. He gives a small mental shudder at the thought of what Aki may come up with if left to choose on his own.

 

“No,” he says firmly. “If you want a scene name, I’ll choose it for you, brat. You will not attempt to make me a laughing stock by putting down something absurd on your name tag. You can both be yourselves or you can be Kitsune and Koneko and that’s final.”

 

Haru is still flushed with the pleasure of Asami’s compliment about his skills, and he doesn’t register for a second the names Asami-sama has in store for them.

 

“I don’t mind using my name. I won’t ever be famous like  you , Asami-sama,” he says hastily. “I don’t think it would ever be a problem with work, but it might different with Akihito since he’s definitely in the public eye. So if both of you think it’s best I don’t mind the other names either.”

 

He’s pretty sure he knows which name is meant for who, though, and Haru’s cheeks go pink as he imagines being known to people by that designation.

 

Aki tilts his head to the side while he considers whether he thinks being known as Fox is embarrassing or not, then wrinkles his nose.

 

“I’m going to be famous,” he says confidently. “But artists are supposed to be weird, right? I don’t need a scene name.”

 

“Aki and Haru will do,” says Asami, knowing he sounds a little indulgent but not really caring. He feels absurdly pleased that they wish to go by their real names. “Now, the Black Rose will have us sign a personal injury waiver. Most clubs have these, though in truth they are worth about as much as the paper on which they’re printed. However, as part of that waiver, you also agree to adhere to the rules of the club.”

 

“There’s not going to be like, a test on this is there?” quips Aki.

 

“It would serve you right if there was. But although I expect you to be a behavior problem, I don’t have concerns about you being disrespectful enough to flaunt rules that are really only in place for the patrons’ safety.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Obey the club’s designated Dungeon Masters or you’ll be asked to leave. They’ll be wearing special name tags, you’ll recognize them easily enough. Respect the privacy of the other patrons. What you see and do and say there, stays there.”

 

“That sounds like Fight Club,” snickers Aki. Asami can’t tell if he’s whistling in the dark or if he’s just excited enough to be acting ridiculous. Besides, it does sound like Fight Club. Haru, however, is hanging on his every word.

 

“Safewords will be used and respected. Red, yellow and green are standard in almost every BDSM club in the world. Free-flowing blood is not allowed, nor is bathroom play outside of the designated area.”

 

“What, like the  bathroom ?”

 

“Akihito, exactly how badly do you wish to be spanked in front of a room full or people, and how hard?” he asks curiously. Haru glances up at Aki and wrinkles his nose.

 

“Really badly...and really hard,” he supplies helpfully. Aki sticks his tongue out at Haru.

 

“Appropriate aftercare will be offered to all bottoms/subs, And don’t fuck on the food table.” He smirks a little as he shares the last one, and can’t really blame either of them when Aki and Haru erupt in giggles.

 

“And that’s it?” asks Akihito after they’ve calmed down.

 

“Mostly,” says Asami. “Save a few of my own you’ll obey or pay the kind of price you won’t enjoy and which I’ll deal out to you after we get home.” He turns serious, and even Aki can tell it’s not a time for joking around.

 

“You’ll obey me without question. No, Akihito, don’t test me on this. I won’t give orders unless they’re important, so you’ll just have to trust me not to take advantage of the situation, because if I DO tell you something, there’ll be a good reason and I expect you to obey me. You’ll stay by my side unless you’ve procured my permission, and you will not go anywhere alone.I know the owner of the Black Rose, but it’s a big club and not everyone there will be respectful of basic lifestyle protocols. It will not be an appropriate place for you to show an attitude, Akihito. You’d make it awkward for Haru and unpleasant for yourself to question my authority in such a place.”

 

“Asami,” says Akihito uncomfortably, fidgeting. “I know I’m a smartass but...but I know that all that time you spent learning all of this...it’s important to you. I may not want to be your slave like Haru, but I’ll….I’ll be a good sub for you in front of all those other people. You...you deserve that kind of respect. I know that.”

 

Asami smiles at Akihito, because he knows the allowance frightens the boy a little, that it costs him to say it, just a bit.

 

“You can still be enough of a brat to earn your spanking, Aki-kun,” he says with a smirk. “But thank you. Now, at some point, I’ll take you both shopping and improve your fetish wardrobe, but I think tomorrow that jeans and plain t-shirts will suffice. Aki-kun, will you go and order sushi from Fukuzushi please? I need to talk to Haru about something.”

 

“Kay,” says Aki, scrambling to his feet and trotting off towards the kitchen. He has the famed sushi restaurant on speed-dial on the kitchen phone, and only has to give them Asami’s name, as they have a standing order on file and will deliver here, despite the fact that they offer this service to no one else.

 

Asami looks down at Haru and sees that his boy’s eyes are glued to his face. He never has to remind Haru to pay attention. He reaches into his pants pocket and his fingers close over the item he’d palmed from the play room while selecting toys with which to redden Haru’s ass. He looks down at it, bright silver clinking on itself, the leather soft between his fingers.

 

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to say yes, Haruki,” he says softly, surprised at how badly he wants Haru to say yes, hoping he will be able to phrase it in such a way that he won’t feel obligated to do so.

 

“Yes, Asami-sama,” says Haru, so solemn that he misses the humor of what he’s just said. Asami’s mouth quirks.

 

“You’re in training, so you won’t be expected to know how to behave perfectly. Tomorrow night will be for fun. I don’t want you to worry about it, though I’m concerned that you will anyway. There’s a way that some people use...to designate to others that a person is a slave-in-training. It’s absolutely not necessary, but for those few people at the club who are actually in the know, it would immediately identify you as such, and excuse any unintentional faux pas you might commit.”

 

He opens his hands. A plain, brown leather collar untangles from his fingers, its silver buckle chiming softly against the plain silver ring affixed to its front.

 

“This is a training collar,” he says softly, his thumb rubbing over the plain silver tag riveted to the leather which has his own name on it. He’d had it made years ago when he’d been considering taking a slave of his own, and kept it for the few he’d agreed to train over the years, whether for themselves or others. He never felt this inexplicable catch in his throat when he’d offered it to  them to wear when he took them to clubs. “It’s not required. Not by any means. I’m not offering it to you to pressure you, Haru. But if…” He clears his throat and his fingers close slowly around the collar as he curses mentally. “If you’d like to wear it tomorrow…”

 

Haru's breath stops, and his eyes widen, locked onto the supple leather Asami holds in his hand. Asami's thumb moves back and forth hypnotically over the silver tag faded to a beautiful patina. Asami's name appears and disappears with the motion, and Haru's heart seems to swell to a painful degree within his ribcage.

 

"Oh, yes, please," he breathes. "I want to."

 

Haru isn't concerned at all about the benefits of such a thing. He's only thinking of the fact that it's  Asami-sama's collar, even if it's only a training one, and there's nothing he wants more desperately at this moment than to be allowed the honor of wearing it.

 

His cheeks flush with gratitude and a rushing sense of pride that rises up within him. He looks up, devotion practically glowing in his eyes. "I promise I'll do my very best not to disappoint you, Asami-sama."

 

“Haru,” says Akihito later, his mouth full of sushi, “You’re doing it again.”

 

Haru blushes a little, but he just smiles dreamily at Aki and keeps petting the strip of leather around his neck. Aki shakes his head and laughs.

 

“He hasn’t stopped touching it since you put it on him,” he says to Asami, who glances over at Haru and smirks.

 

“That’s why I put it on him tonight. He’s got 24 hours to get used to it.”

 

“If that’s what you’re hoping to have happen, maybe you should have put it on him last WEEK,” says Aki, snorting in amusement.

 

“Hm. Perhaps,” agrees Asami, but he doesn’t mind really. Not even a little.

 

So it is that they find themselves in the limo the following night at 8. Aki rubs his hands a little nervously down the legs of his clean blue jeans and glances at Haru, who is peeking shyly back at him, his fingers still plucking softly at the collar around his neck. They grin at each other, then Haru’s eyes are drawn to Asami, who leans back against the buttery leather seat, the leather of his scuffed motorcycle jacket creaking a little.

 

“Do you think you’re going to manage to stop looking at me like you’ve never seen me before by the time we get there, Haru-kun?” he asks, chuckling softly. Haru’s bright eyes roam over tight black cotton stretched over sleekly muscled pecs and abs, snug black denim hugging Asami’s hips and thighs, the thick soled black biker boots and jacket.

“Probably not,” says Aki, laughing. He reaches around to flick Haru’s ear. Haru claps his hand to the side of his head and shoots Aki and aggrieved look.

 

“Hey!” Haru slaps at Aki’s hand and glares.

 

“Am I going to have to start spanking people before we even get there?” asks Asami placidly. His hand twitches towards the unadorned black leather case sitting on the floor by his foot. Akihito and Haru are well aware of what it contains, as they’d watched him pack it earlier.

 

“No Asami-sama,” whispers Haru breathlessly.

 

“Akihito,” says Asami, his deep voice soft but serious. “Why don’t you take a closer look at the person you’re picking at.”

 

Aki opens his mouth to retort, but glances at Haru first, whereupon he forgets whatever he’d been going to say.

 

“Haru,” he whispers, “I’m sorry.” He feels like an ass. He’d been trying to distract Haru from being nervous, but Haru’s more than nervous. Aki crawls over Asami to get to Haru and into his boyfriend’s lap, straddling him and wrapping his arms around Haru’s slender body. Haru hugs him back and laughs. His voice shakes a little. “Don’t be  scared  Haru,” he says softly. “It’s going to be fun.”

 

“I don’t want to let my M….Asami-sama down,” confesses Haru, as though it wasn’t totally obvious what he’s worried about.

 

“You won’t. You couldn’t, Haru...Asami’s gonna be the envy of every top in the whole place. You’re beautiful, and it’s all over your face how much you care for him and how every breath you take is for him.” Haru opens his mouth to protest, but Aki kisses him instead, kisses him as though there is no tomorrow, until they’re both whimpering softly and making small, eager noises, their bodies rocking together. Asami smiles to himself as he watches them. It won’t be just because of Haru that everyone will envy him.

 

Haru clasps Aki’s hand tightly in his as Asami shepherds them into the club. A tingle of nervous anticipation spreads in his belly to an almost painful intensity, but Asami’s presence is comforting, as well as the hand that presses lightly against his lower back.

 

The collar rests against his throat with a still novel weight, and Haru takes a deep breath as they pass through the heavy front doors. Hand in hand, they follow Asami’s confident steps as their eyes adjust to the dim interior of the club.

 

An industrial beat enhances the quickened beat of his heart, but the music isn’t loud enough to overpower conversation, and when Asami calls his name, Haru steps forward immediately.  Asami fixes a name tag to Haru’s shirt and another to Akihito’s, and then they bend forward over the desk to sign their waivers.

 

His ears prick up at the sounds he remembers from his first visit--cries both soft and sharp, the sound of leather cracking against bare flesh, and the sussuration of hushed voices commenting on the performances or conducting their own private conversations.

 

A simple word draws them further into the club’s plush interior, and with Asami-sama at his side, Haru feels brave enough to cast a long look around the room, observing the intimate play spaces carved out of the larger, common area where a breathtaking number of people are mingling.

 

Akihito gasps beside him, and Haru looks to dimly lit arrangement of couches where a beautiful naked slave kneels on hands and knees before her Mistress, serving as a footrest for the women’s shiny, spike-heeled shoes. Before Akihito’s eyes can grow too large for his head, the sound of throaty cries distracts them. On a raised dais, in a warm spotlight, a man is lashing the upper back of man bound to a x-shaped cross. His large frame might even match Suoh’s. The bulky muscles gleam in a sheen of sweat, crisscrossed with bright red lines.

 

Akihito’s fingers squeeze his, and Haru squeezes back in perfect empathy. It’s  so much better with Akihito and Asami here with him. The memory of that excruciating awkwardness, that sense of not belonging, of his first ill conceived visit fades away almost entirely, though an anxiety of a different sort takes his place. It’s not an unwelcome feeling. His desire to please Asami is something that’s simply a part of him now, and this night is important. He’ll do everything he can to prove to Asami that he’s taking all of his teaching to heart.

 

Haru turns to catch Akihito’s gaze and grins, albeit a little nervously. Besides, with Akihito around, they’re absolutely bound to have fun. “There’s a bar and stuff upstairs,” he says softly, thinking that Akihito looks a little freaked out himself. “You can watch everyone from up there.”

 

Asami watches his pets, amusement curling his lips into a small smile as they switch roles from comforter to comforted. He couldn’t be more pleased with the way they care for one another, and wonders if Haru is aware of how far he’s actually come. Instinctively, the boy looks to the comfort of those who matter to him, his own nerves subsumed by his attention to Akihito.

 

“Ryuichi,” purrs a voice at his elbow. “Now I see why you’ve been such a stranger. My word, but they’re exquisite.”

 

He turns on his heel and looks down at the petite woman who has come to greet them personally.

 

“Lily,” he says with a smile. Mistress Lily has never been one of the reasons he’s stayed away from the Black Rose. Though it’s been quite some time, he’s honestly pleased to see her, and can tell the sentiment is returned. Her petite body with its lush curves is encased in tight, shiny black patent leather  from her neck to her knees, the corset dress laced and buckled to her like a second skin. Knee-high boots with knife-edged stilletto heels hug her shapely calves. Severe, dramatic makeup accentuates her cold beauty, her platinum blonde hair pulled tightly back into a high ponytail. Though her expression is usually cold and stern, she favors him with a warm, open smile that, although no one knows it, suits her personality better. She opens her arms and he returns her hug, bending down a little so that she can kiss his cheek.

 

“You must introduce me, Ryuichi,” she says, her voice slightly accented with her native Romanian although her Japanese is flawless. Haru and Aki have turned now to see who he’s talking to. He takes her hand and escorts her closer.

 

“Mistress Liliana Petrescu, may I present to you my boys. These are Aki and Haru. Mistress Lily is the owner of the Black Rose.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you,” says Aki, bobbing his head in a little bow. Asami sees Haru look to him for direction and he tilts his head towards the floor at Lily’s tiny feet. Haru takes a step forward and kneels smoothly in front of her with his head bowed. Akihito looks a little stricken, as though he’s committed some kind of egregious error. Asami chuckles.

 

“Don’t look so horrified, Aki,” he murmurs. “She can see you’re not wearing a training collar.”

 

Lily smiles and goes up on tiptoes, reaching over to cup Aki’s cheek with her hand, her dagger-like fingernails which are painted the color of heart’s blood, narrowly avoiding laying his cheek open.

 

“Aren’t you sweet, Precious,” she laughs. “Where did you find this one?”

 

“He found me,” says Asami easily. “Spied on me and planned to bring me down along with my entire criminal empire.”

 

“Reallllly?” she trills, looking fascinated. “And yet he breathes?”

 

“Look at him,” says Asami, resting a hand on Aki’s shoulder. “He’s too cute to kill, and I swear to you, my friend, he is the most courageous young man I’ve ever known. He’s made me a better person.”

 

Akihito looks a little stunned, but his eyes shine like stars when he looks at Asami, a gaze that promises multiple blow jobs, clearly having expected Asami to say something embarrassing.

 

Lily bends down (she doesn’t have to bend very much) and lifts Haru’s chin with her fingers. She brushes his bangs back with gentle fingers and smiles at him. Haru smiles back hesitantly, his cheeks flushed.

 

“You may stand, Haru,” she says softly, and steps back to allow him to get to his feet. He bows and steps back to Asami’s side. Asami nods. Haru gives him a brilliant smile. “And was this one a spy as well?”

 

“No,” laughs Asami. “The first time I met this one, he told me he didn’t think I could spank him hard enough to make him cry.”

 

“Oh my. And could you?”

 

“Of course,” says Asami with a feral smile. “And it unlocked one of the most exquisite treasures I’ve ever seen.”

 

“You’re different,” says Lily, her head cocked to the side, tapping her lip with one sharp fingernail. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were so happy you hardly know what to do with yourself”

 

“Well,” says Asami with a wry grin. “I’ve been one of the wealthiest men in the world for a very long time...but it is only recently that I have learned what it means to feel rich.” He takes in the slightly poleaxed expressions on his boys’ faces and chuckles. “What, has it occurred to neither of you, even knowing me as you do, that places like this are the only ones where I don’t wear a mask?”

 

Haru exchanges a brief glance with Akihito, and then they both shake their heads vigorously.

 

“It’s, well, it’s...”  Unexpected is what Haru is planning to say.

 

But Akihito breaks in and finishes his thought with, “Freaking  weird. ”

 

Haru immediately ducks his head to hide the giggles that want to break out at Akihito’s outburst. Akihito starts stammering, but Asami and Mistress Lilianna laugh, and Haru sneaks a look at Akihito and can’t help but let out his own laughter at the sight of Akihito’s sheepish face.

 

“I take it you share Aki’s opinion, Haru?”

 

The mock severity in Asami’s voice evokes another giggle, but Haru shakes his head again. “I think what Aki  meant to say, Asami-sama,” Haru offers diplomatically, “is that it’s  surprising to see you so lighthearted in public, but it’s a  good surprise.”

 

“Yeah, that’s totally what I meant to say,” Akihito pipes up. His arm slides around Haru’s waist and he tilts his head to rest against Haru’s. The contrast of one fair head and one dark is striking, as they, quite unconsciously, offer Asami simultaneous bright smiles

 

The skeptical brow Asami has raised, melts into a rueful grin. “You see how it is.” He directs this toward Lily, with a subtle self-deprecation that brings a slow smile to her lips.

 

“Yes, I do see.” Lily eyes Asami with amused gleam. “I do hope you’ll come and talk with me later. There’s so much I’d like to catch up on, and I would Iove to hear more about your darling boys. But, in the meantime, you  will let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your visit more enjoyable?”

 

Asami inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Lily.”

 

She nods in return. “Your usual section has been prepared for you.”

 

She spares the boys one sweeping glance before she makes a graceful path through the crowd that parts for her in perfect ripples. Haru and Akihito release breaths they didn’t realize they’d been holding. Mistress Lillianna has an astonishing amount of presence wrapped up in such a petite package.

 

Neither one of them had expected to meet the owner of the club, but knowing Asami, they suppose they shouldn’t have been surprised. Their eyes lock expectantly on him, who smirks at their almost childlike expressions of anticipation.

 

“Shall we sit and observe for a while, or would you like a short tour?” he asks indulgently.

 

“I want to see everything!” Akihito says enthusiastically, and Haru is happy to consent, so Asami  leads them through various rooms, quietly explaining their functions and allowing them respectfully observe a few scenes in progress before they make their way to an area more opulent that what they’ve seen so far.

  
Fewer people makes the scene even more intimate, and Haru realizes that all the other people are wearing the etched badges that denote membership--the ones who are wearing clothes anyway. Asami settles onto a low couch with perfect assurance, pulling Aki down next to him. So this must be the section Mistress Lilianna had referred to, even though Asami-sama had said he’d let his membership lapse.

 

One look sends Haru to his knees at Asami-sama’s feet, and he stops wondering about anything else when Asami’s fingers trace the collar at his throat. He tilts his face up to meet the gaze of his Master.

 

Quite a few people come over and introduce themselves once they have settled down on the very comfortable, enormous leather sectional sofa. It seems that most of them know Asami, or at least know OF him. Akihito hopes there really isn’t going to be a test, because he’s never going to remember all of them!

 

Somehow, because Asami himself is so much larger than life, he realizes he’d expected the other people here to be the same. Asami seems to radiate some kind of infectious energy. People are drawn to him, as moths to a flame. They themselves, however, are almost astonishingly normal. Although they don’t introduce themselves according to what they do for a living, Aki’s able to deduce through listening to their conversations that one of them, slave to a tall woman in a long red dress, is an accountant. There’s a school teacher and a bus driver.  As he realizes this, he starts to become a lot less intimidated by being here. These are just regular people! Boring, normal people! And once his nerves are soothed, he finds his tongue grows looser and looser, the thought of being bent over that heavy bench in the corner grows less and less terrifying.

 

“You know, Akihito, if you want a spanking, you could just ASK for one rather than try to earn one,” murmurs Asami into his ear, that deep bass rumble felt in his bones. Aki squirms a little and looks into his lover’s amused, amber eyes.

 

“No I couldn’t,” he mutters, which makes Asami laugh softly. “F-fuck you.”

 

“Mm. That will do nicely for a final straw.”

 

Aki yelps as he’s hefted into the air and thrown over Asami’s shoulder to be carried across the elegantly appointed room. Haru helps the situation exactly not at all by laughing at the expression on Aki’s face, but it’s too late to yell at him about it, because then he’s face-down on soft, padded leather and his jeans are yanked down around his ankles.

 

Although he’d been titillated by the idea of getting a spanking in front of a room full of people, Aki finds that his awareness of them flies out the window once Asami’s hand cracks down on his bared backside. He wriggles and moans theatrically as his skilled lover builds layer upon layer of heat in his body, switching from his hand to a paddle, then to a strap and a riding crop and...Aki loses track around that point, entirely lost in sensation and his desire for the man who drowns him in it.

 

The spanking ends all too soon, and Asami whispers in his ear that although he has no intention of fucking him here, he has only to wait until they get home, where he’s going to be taken so hard and so often he’s going to forget his own name. He thinks this is an incredibly good idea.

 

The sound of slow hand-clapping doesn’t really register in his brain as anything but someone else getting what he’s just gotten on another of the large apparatus in the room at first, but after a few moments he realizes that both Asami and Haru have gone very stiff and silent. He raises himself on his elbows and looks back over his shoulder. A man in a long, leather trench coat stands a few feet away, applauding their performance. Aki’s still pretty floaty from what Asami’s done to him so he’s a little slow on the uptake, but finally the rigidity of his lovers’ bodies and the nasty smirk on the clapping man’s face clue him in.

 

It’s Murakawa.

 


	14. A Wager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami and Murakawa agree to go head to head in a competition administered and judged by Mistress Lily, the owner of the Black Rose. It requires a great deal of courage and trust on Haru's part.
> 
> Asami isn't worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the "events" in the contest in this chapter are things I've actually seen real people do. These tests aren't for beginners. Play smart, and don't try things you're not really sure of just to show off. Asami IS showing off here, but A) he has earned the right to - he IS that good and B) He is showing HARU off because he's proud of him and has more faith in his boy than Haru has in himself.

A sick feeling swells in the pit of Haru’s stomach, and a hot flash of shame engulfs him when Murakawa’s gaze lands on him for just a moment, a suggestive sweep, his nasty smile widening. Haru’s hands start to tremble, and he presses them harder against his thighs.

 

Why didn’t he ever consider that the man might be here? But after Asami-sama had warned him off, Haru had just assumed that he would stay away. It wasn’t such a far fetched assumption. Asami had been  scary that night.

 

This night had been going so well, but now Haru can’t even bring himself to look at Asami-sama. The memory of the misery of that night before Asami and Aki had come for him and everything had changed makes Haru pale. His bad choices are made even more glaringly obvious by the current standoff and the curious eyes observing them all. How could he have ever thought Murakawa was charming?

 

Asami-sama’s voice snaps him out of his frozen recollections, and he rises at the soft command and goes to stand by his side while Asami helps Akihito put his clothing to rights and whispers a few soft words in his ear.

 

Asami turns to look at him. His amber eyes burn with anger, but it’s not directed at Haru.

 

“You will hold your head up,” he murmurs. His voice is soft, but terrifying all the same. “You belong to me. He cannot touch you. You are worth a thousand of him. I. Am. Proud. Of you.” The last words are barely more than a hiss. He hopes Haru understands that none of his anger is projected at him. Then he turns back to Murakawa, his expression bored.

 

“What a….cute...display,” sneers the bastard, laughing softly. “Really, Asami, if you thought to impress us all with your little toy’s toughness, you’ve chosen the wrong crowd, and possibly the wrong toy.” Asami feels Haru stiffen at the implied insult to Akihito. Murakawa has chosen his opening salvo poorly, if his intention was to embarrass them.

 

“You have some nerve, showing your face here,” says Asami softly, ignoring the comment completely. He knows what Akihito can take. It’s never been a thing he’s measured against some kind of standard when he considers the boy’s worth. Murakawa reddens at his quiet words.

 

“You don’t own this club,” cries the other man angrily. “I am a member in good standing. If you don’t like it, YOU are the one who should leave!”

 

“You’re a member,” speaks a clear, cold voice from behind Murakawa. He whirls to see Mistress Lily has entered the VIP area behind him. “You overstep to claim good standing here. I don’t like you. You’re a bully and a tyrant. Your membership gains you entrance. Asami and his boys are welcome here, and you have no authority to ask them to leave. You skate on thin ice, Kenji. Most of us are only waiting for you to break a rule we can prove.” She walks past him without deigning to look at him and comes to stand beside Asami.

 

Murakawa’s face flushes an unattractive puce color with rage and humiliation. He reaches behind him and yanks roughly on the end of a leash. The nearly naked young man behind him is almost pulled over onto his face and struggles to scramble on his knees around to kneel in front of his owner. He doesn’t look a day over 18 or 19. His fair skin is marred with scars, healing wounds and bruises. He stares fixedly at the floor with his hands clasped behind his back.

 

“This is my new slave,” says Murakawa loftily. “He has been trained by the best houses in Europe since he gained puberty. We shall see who the better man is, and who will go and who will stay. I issue you a challenge, Asami. Skill and obedience. My skill versus yours, my boy’s obedience versus your runty little stray.”

 

Now it’s Akihito’s turn to stiffen with outrage as Murakawa insults Haru with a cruel sneer. Asami fires a warning look at Aki, who closes his mouth with a snap and settles for glaring venomously. He ponders what Murakawa is saying, wondering if the man can possibly be that stupid.

 

“Two conditions,” he says softly. Murakawa gestures impatiently for him to speak. “One is that Mistress Lily be the judge. The other is that the loser leave this place and never return to it again as long as they live.”

 

“Done!” crows Murakawa triumphantly.

 

There is a sudden burst of speculative conversation from among the other VIP’s and a flurry of activity as Lily summons a couple of employees to rearrange some furniture and apparatus. Asami guides Aki and Haru to one side of the room with a hand on their elbows. Haru looks stricken, trembling with fear.

 

“A….Asami-sama,” he whispers. “Master!”

 

“Haru,” says Asami gently, cupping his boy’s cheek in the palm of his hand and brushing his thumb over the trembling lips. “Don’t be afraid.”

 

“But what if I….what if he….he said tr-trained by the best houses….I don’t….”

 

“Hush. Listen to me. Murakawa is a brute. His slave is terrified of him, but the contest we’ll be having gives us the advantage, though he is too stupid to see it. All you have to do, sweet boy, is trust me, and obey. I know you can do that, know it as surely as I know my own name. We will win this, and not only that, we will humiliate him, because there has to be trust and….” He heaves a deep breath and thinks poisonous thoughts about Murakawa because he’d have chosen to share intimate feelings with Haru under different circumstances if he could, but can see that Haru needs to hear the truth. “love between Master and slave in order to shine in a contest such as this will be. We have those things, Haru-kun. They don’t.”

 

The blood in Haru’s cheeks drains swiftly and then rushes back with equal speed. He sways a little, but Asami’s hand is there to steady him as he looks wordlessly up into his Master’s face with wide, stunned eyes.

 

He knows, of course, that Asami cares for him. His kindness, and protection, and careful attention have proven that again and again. But Haru is utterly staggered by the words Asami has uttered. His own feelings, he’s sure, have long been an open book to his Master, though he’s never spoken them aloud, content to silently offer up his ardent devotion. And his deepest wishes that someday Asami-sama might come to feel for him  more than affection and desire have been well buried beneath present Haru’s happiness with his two lovers.

 

The wonder of hearing Asami allude  now to such deeper emotion is almost overwhelming. Haru takes a shuddering breath and pulls his shoulders back, his gazed locked onto Asami’s like a lifeline. The troublesomeness of Murakawa’s presence fades into insignificance. It’s only importance is that it provides the means for Haru to show his Master just how deeply his trust and obedience and adoration run.

 

He might still be terrified, but if Asami-sama has faith that he can come through this, he can do no less than to prove worthy of it and put himself entirely in his Master’s hands.

 

His lips still tremble, but Haru whispers, “I’m ready, Master.” It’s all he can get past his tight, aching throat, but his shining eyes speak more eloquently than any words.

 

“Of course you are, because the point of these contests are essentially to test my skill and accuracy with various implements, most importantly the single tailed whip, and your ability to trust and obey me. Murakawa thinks your inexperience will hurt you. He doesn’t understand trust. His slave fears him, and will do his best to obey out of fear of punishment. Contrary to what the bastard believes, he thinks we’re weaker because of that. He thinks I haven’t trained you well because you don’t show fear of me. He thinks you a hothouse flower which will wilt under testing. He assumes you cannot handle pain. Haru...there will be some pain. I swear to you it won’t be above or beyond what you find arousing. I don’t have to hit you hard enough to damage you to win. Brute force is inelegant and crude. Aside from that, Mistress Lily will officiate, and she likes you.”

 

As he talks he watches Lily out of the corner of his eye as she directs the placement of two Saint Andrew’s Crosses side by side and about eight feet apart. There are a number of types of contest that can be called for during these challenges, and he understands that as the club’s owner and impartial judge, she can’t be seen to weight the contests in his favor. He and Haru will have to win fair and square. He’s confident they can. The only unknown is Murakawa’s unfortunate slave boy and how thoroughly the miserable excuse for a human being has terrorized the young man. He can’t imagine that it’s possible for the poor slave to fear his owner as much as Haru loves his master, not with the world shining in Haru’s eyes all for him right now. He thinks he could probably drop barbells on the boy’s toes right now and Haru would keep right on looking like Asami has just given him his greatest wish. Then again, maybe he actually has, though how it’s come to happen that HE is the answer to anybody’s greatest wish is beyond him.

 

“Gentlemen,” says Lily, managing to keep  most  of the irony out of her voice, “place your slaves on the crosses with their backs to the room after they have finished undressing.”

“Don’t look at the people, Haru,” whispers Aki. “Just Asami.”

 

Haru isn’t an exhibitionist, and the room contains well over a dozen spectators. Asami thanks whatever gods may be listening that this isn’t happening in the main dungeon where everybody in the entire club can watch, but this is still a difficult step for Haru. Murakawa’s slave strips off his leather chaps, g-string and body harness mechanically. Asami looks at Haru and sees panic in his eyes. He almost groans inwardly when he notices that Haru’s fingers grip his collar tightly. Oh.

 

“Mistress Lily, if you please, may I have a clarification?” he calls out. At this point, Haru’s unquestioning obedience is being tested, and Asami isn’t allowed to say anything to him.

 

“Yes?” she asks, ignoring the other contestant’s snort of derision.

 

“My boy has never seen a contest of this nature. I believe he thinks he’s been given an order that goes directly against one I gave him earlier, that under no circumstances is he to remove his training collar unless I take it off him.” He hadn’t said anything of the kind, and he believes Haru will understand that he’s being reassured. Lily smiles at Haru.

 

“Obey your Master, little one. You will not be required to remove your collar.”

 

Now all Haru has to do is remember Asami explaining to him that there’s nothing for him to be self-conscious about when he’s obeying his Master’s wishes, because on his own, he’ll never manage to take off his clothes without allowing his embarrassment to show. A few nerves in a boy as new as he is will be seen as charming, but too much hesitation will lose them points. Asami holds his breath a little and wills Haru to let go of his sense of self. He lets the breath out a moment later. Haru’s fingers let go of his collar and he smiles brilliantly at Asami. He isn’t sure, but it’s entirely possible Haru doesn’t even recall there’s anything at stake right now, all he knows and all that matters is that his Master loves him. He strips his shirt over his head, folds it neatly and hands it to Akihito. An elegantly dressed older woman sitting near the front of the exhibition area makes no effort to whisper when she leans over to her partner.

 

“My god, that is the most beautiful slave I have ever seen. Makoto...he shines.”

 

Haru  cannot possibly help but hear her. He pauses, and a tiny line appears between his eyebrows. Asami suddenly remembers a conversation from the night before, when Haru had asked questions about the club, and about ways he should behave that went above and beyond rules and protocols.

 

“Never ignore a sincere compliment from another Dominant,” Asami had said to him. “Even if you haven’t leave to speak, it is a great favor for he or she to render the compliment to you and not to me. Show your appreciation.”

 

He hopes now that he hasn’t set Haru up to commit an error. A few seconds later he decides he’s going to stop fucking worrying about Haru, when his beautiful little boy pauses, turns in the woman’s direction and bows deeply to her before continuing. A soft murmur of approval ripples through the audience. Asami and Murakawa can’t touch their boys until they’ve finished undressing. Asami opens the case he’s bought and takes out a set of soft leather wrist and ankle cuffs. He notices that Murakawa tosses his to his slave and snaps at the boy to put them on himself. Asami goes to one knee and taps Haru’s foot. He gently wraps his hand around Haru’s ankle for a moment before he buckles the cuff securely around it. The other ankle follows, then Asami stands and fastens the wrist cuffs. He leans close as he does so, his breath stirring Haru’s hair.

 

“She was right,” he whispers.

 

Haru’s breath catches, and his lips silently shape the word that burns brightly in the forefront of his thoughts.  Master.  He doesn’t speak aloud. He wouldn’t dream of it now, in the midst of this singular and formal scene, where he would feel as lost as a child in a deep wood, if not for Asami-sama’s blazing presence. That steady warmth and comfort sears his self-consciousness and fears to ashes.

 

The gentle touches as Asami strapped him to the cross have calmed his trembling frame despite his exposure to all the eyes turned toward him. For the first time, he truly understands what it means that this too--his vulnerability, his nakedness--belong utterly to his Master. It is only him who Haru strains to please, no one else. Every small gesture of his submission is an extension of Asami-sama’s desire, a stroke of his brush, a manifestation of his skill, and the warm flow of pride of knowing that he is his Master’s to work and display sends a sensual shudder down his spine. His blood still sings from the revelation of his Master’s feelings, flooded with a pure high that make his body feel like it’s floating. The softest of moans escapes his parted lips before he can catch it.

 

Haru sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and raises his gaze to meet his Master’s, willing him to see the utter trust of his love, and his willingness--no...his ardent  desire \--to endure whatever comes this evening and  so much more for his Master’s sake alone.

 

Mistress Lily steps up behind Haru and takes out a magic marker. Swiftly, the draws several lines on his back, leaving behind two roughly framed square-ish shapes about the size of paperback books, one on each shoulder blade. She does the same to Murakawa’s boy, then steps back.

 

“All right, gentlemen,” she trills gaily. “Your first test is one of control and accuracy, and your slaves’ ability to maintain their positions in order to make it easier for you to stay on target. You’ll use the flogger of your choice, and keep your pattern confined inside the lines I’ve drawn on your lovely boys’ backs. Boys, you’d best plant those feet and stand still as stones. No squirming now! Points will be deducted for red marks outside the target area, too much fidgeting from your slaves, especially if their wiggling causes you to miss your target rather than your own lack of skill! Further points will be deducted if you wait too long between strokes. Keep up a steady rhythm, Masters, no pauses to keep from having to lay down as many strokes. You’ll be judged on speed, accuracy, and the obedience of your targets. This trial will last ten minutes. You may take a few minutes to stretch your shoulders and backs if you wish. I’ll begin the contest in 5 minutes.”

 

Asami grins. He reaches into his case and pulls out one of his floggers. It’s a fairly lightweight one, buttery-soft deerskin with two-foot falls and a ten-inch handle. He watches Murakawa from the corner of his eyes and snorts softly in disgust as his opponent pulls a heavy latigo flogger from his huge toy bag with a flourish. Asami lays the flogger across Haru’s shoulders and steps in front of the cross to look into his eyes. He sees the slight flinching around Haru’s eyes as Murakawa smacks his flogger against an unused leather horse with a loud SMACK.

 

“It may be a challenge, because he’s going to be as flashy as he can be, but try not to pay attention to him,” he murmurs softly. Haru’s skin pebbles when he slowly lets the velvety strands of the whip trickle down his skin. His eyelashes flutter and he sighs. The other flogger cracks loudly against a wall this time. Haru opens his eyes a little wider and looks at Asami, a question in their depths. Asami chuckles.

 

“It’s all right for you to speak when I talk to you between tests,” he says gently, and Haru lets out a great sigh of relief.

 

“You don’t have to go easy on me, Master,” he whispers anxiously. Asami grins evilly at him, glancing disdainfully at his challenger as he grandstands for the audience and his poor slave trembles.

 

“I’m not. I’m making it harder on myself,” says Asami smugly. Haru looks confused. “Latigo is stiff, heavy leather. It’s stiff enough to break skin. It’s a vicious flogger, and it’s going to hurt that poor boy. That’s the goal, sadly. It will hurt a lot more than what I’m going to use on you, but more importantly, heavy floggers’ falls bunch together more tightly when you swing them. It’s easier to maintain a tight pattern with a heavier flogger. Lighter strands like the doeskin I’ll be using want to fly wider, so they’re harder to control. Try not to be bored, because this won’t be more than an easy massage for you, but the only people who’d be more impressed by Murakawa’s work with his whip would be the newbies in the public dungeon downstairs. He’s going to lose face with everyone in this room.” Understanding light’s Haru’s face and he glances sideways at the other cuffed slave with a sympathetic wince.

 

“I hope that other boy will be all right,” he says softly.

 

“He almost certainly won’t, but I hope to make sure Murakawa is thrown out of here in disgrace tonight with his membership revoked, and without his fancy slaveboy in tow. I’ll see the boy safe if I can. Aren’t you going to ask me if I’ll be able to keep this soft little whip inside the lines?”

 

“No Master,” says Haru steadily. “I know you will.”

 

Asami leans in and steals a swift, rough kiss, then he takes up the flogger and makes a few practice swings to get the blood flowing. It’s not heavy enough to risk a pulled muscle, and he’s fairly well warmed up from spanking Akihito anyway. Soon enough, Mistress Lily calls time and starts the first trial. Asami sets the flogger in motion until its strands are a softly whistling blur. He steps a little closer to Haru and then begins to lay the falls across his boy’s shoulders inside the target areas, back and forth in a rapid figure eight pattern. He focuses all his attention on Haru and shuts out the loud cracks of latigo on bare skin and the muffled cries of Murakawa’s slave as he’s cruelly beaten. Because he knows he’s good enough and because he’d stake his life on the fact that Haru won’t move a muscle, he shows off a little, changing up the pattern. Overhand, underhand, a dozen strokes on one side and then the other. A step closer so that more of the flogger’s length makes contact with Haru’s skin, then he dances back and lets the tips scuff his fair flesh. The areas inside the two squares flushes red with heat, but there are no welts, not broken blood vessels. Were they at home alone, Haru would be begging for something with more bite than this. Would, in fact, probably be wondering if he’d done something wrong to deserve so tame a whipping.

 

“Really, Ryuichi?” taunts Murakawa about halfway through. “Too scared to use a real whip on your little stray? Don’t want to break him too soon? Or is it that you lack the skill?”

 

Asami laughs and doesn’t answer. Moron.

 

When time is called, he hands the flogger to Aki and swiftly uncuffs Haru from the cross. He’s been standing stock still for ten minutes, and Asami wants him to move his limbs. He leads Haru, who is smiling dreamily at him, to a nearby padded ottoman and sits, taking his boy onto his lap and softly chafing his wrists.

 

“Aki, rub his feet,” he says quietly, and is gratified that Akihito appreciates the seriousness of the occasion enough to simply obey him quickly and quietly. Haru hums with pleasure when Aki’s hands massage away the pins and needles in his feet. Murakawa has ignored his slave, leaving the boy cuffed to the cross while he faces Mistress Lily with his arms crossed and a challenging, arrogant expression on his face. Lily walks quietly to the man’s panting slave and looks at his back, which is heavily welted and has bruises already blackening his pale skin. She presses her lips together and shakes her head grimly, then walks over to the ottoman where Asami sits with Haru.

 

“My apologies, my friend, for the inconvenience of forcing you to judge my work in this position. I didn’t want Haru’s feet to go to sleep,” he says apologetically. Lily looks up at him and rolls her eyes as Asami nudges Haru to sit up straight so she can examine his back.

 

“You’re not sorry at all,” she says with a snort. “Your first concern is his comfort, as it should be.” She leans close on the pretense of peering more closely at the pattern on Haru’s back and hisses softly into Asami’s ear. “Ruin him,” she says fiercely. She doesn’t mean Haru.

 

“I intend to,” whispers Asami.

 

She stands up to announce the result.

 

“I award nine out of ten points to Murakawa Kenji for accuracy and an obedient slave. I award ten out of ten points to Asami Ryuichi for achieving the same result with a more difficult implement to handle and for his concern for his slave’s well-being.”

 

Murakawa curses under his breath and glares venomously at all of them.

 

Haru is too busy sharing a delighted grin with Akihito to notice, and they both look about to burst with pride as they favor Asami with beaming smiles. He almost chuckles at the look of possessive admiration plainly showing on their faces.

 

“You did well, Haru,” Asami says quietly as Mistress Lily moves away to prepare the area for the second challenge.

 

“Thank you, Master, but it was you who did the hard part. I just stood there and enjoyed it.” He nestles his head against Asami’s shoulder and casts a surreptitious glance at Murakawa, frowning when he sees the man’s bend to whisper something in his slave’s ear. The boy seems to reply softly, though his gaze remains cast to the floor, and Murakawa straightens and ignores him completely after that. Haru’s heart goes out to the boy, and he leans gratefully back into Asami’s embrace. “If all the challenges are like this last one, there’s no way he can match you.”

 

Haru says this with all the confidence of a child convinced his dad can beat up all the other dads in the neighborhood, and Asami can’t suppress a huff of laughter this time at the innocent loyalty Haru espouses. His confidence is well placed, of course, but noting the preparations happening now, Asami wonders exactly how Haru will react to the upcoming trial.

 

“You’ll definitely kick his ass,” Akihito says fiercely. “He made a big mistake insulting you and Haru.”

 

Haru’s eyes soften with tender affection, and he immediately reaches for Akihito’s hand. “He shouldn’t have said those things about you either. But if he underestimates us, then it’ll make it all the more fun to watch when he’s kicked out the door.”

 

Such an unforgiving sentiment is rather out of character for Haru, but he doesn’t care, especially after seeing just what kind of person Murakawa really is, and it brings a grin back to Akihito’s face.

 

The two heavy crosses are hauled out of the way. Asami watches out of the corners of his eyes as Haru watches with avid curiosity while Mistress Lily sends two of her house slaves scurrying about fetching an odd array of items. Asami takes note of a pair of percussion massage “beaters” being denuded of the foam rubber balls on their ends. They’re essentially drum sticks with racquetballs at the heads, used for deep muscle massage which some enterprising kinkster at one point realized were perfect for percussion play. Feathers fetched from a thick, fluffy feather duster out of someone’s toy bag join the balls, then several clothespins and a scattering of pink birthday candles are piled up on a silver tray placed on an end table which has been dragged over beside the massive, thronelike chair from which Lily is observing the goings-on.

 

“Haru,” he says, turning quickly serious, “I know what the next trial is going to be. Some of it will be easy, but some will be harder.”

 

Haru sits up straight in his lap and gives Asami his full attention.

 

“She’s going to have you hold some of those items, or balance them on your body somewhere, for me to knock them off with the single tail.”

 

Haru looks at the items on the platter and Asami can’t tell if he’s nervous or not.

 

“Yes, Master,” he says softly.

 

“You’ll have to be very, very still, no matter how nervous you are.”

 

“Of course, Master.”

“We’ve never done anything like this before,” says Asami. Haru looks at him almost as though he’s going to pat Asami reassuringly on the arm and tell him it will be okay.

 

“Are you good at it?” he asks instead.

 

“Yes,” says Asami, and Haru just nods. Asami rests his forehead against Haru’s shoulder and laughs. “Will it hurt?” asks the boy, but he doesn’t sound frightened, just curious.

 

“As long as I don’t miss, the only one that will hurt is the clothespins. I have no idea where she’ll put them, but I’ll have to knock them off. That will hurt, but she’s probably going to save those for last.”

 

“Worse than the cane?” Haru bites his lip. Asami feels his chest tighten, his breath coming short, as though in the face of such faith he is paralyzed. He doesn’t plan to make Haru sorry for it, but for a great many years, Asami has been much better at breaking people than at fixing them. He glances at Akihito who is sitting beside him, leaning against them both and looking a little worried for Haru.

 

“No,” he says softly. “No...not worse than the cane.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Haru,” he says suddenly, wondering what in the world he can have been thinking, to volunteer a barely-trained boy for a trial like this. “We can go home if you like. I don’t care what any of these people think. You’re perfect for me just the way you are, and you have nothing to prove. Murakawa isn’t worth it. It could become difficult, and I have no  right to ask this of you. If you’re worried about it, say the word and we will walk out the door right now. Well,” he adds after eyeing Haru’s state  of undress, “after you put your clothes back on.”

 

Accepting Murakawa’s challenge is nothing but pure hubris. He’s let his hatred do the talking, and he realizes that it’s a completely unacceptable loss if something were to occur tonight that betrays Haru’s unshakable faith in him. He’s seen trials like this one become quite rigorous indeed, and even though Lily is his friend, she has no idea what Haru is capable of handling, and might ask more of him than he can give without meaning to. He finds that the thought of it is unacceptable to him. Even if it means he has to lose.

 

“No,” Haru says softly, but with fervent intensity. “No, Master. Please, I don’t want to go home. I was scared at first, but I’m not now.” He twists around and his small hand cups Asami’s jaw. “I  want to do this for  you , Master.”

 

“Haru…” Asami begins, his sense of guilt reinforced by Haru’s unconditional willingness to dive into unknown deep waters for his sake, but Haru breaks in hastily.

 

“And maybe he’s not worth your trouble, but…” Haru shoots a quick baleful glance Murakawa’s direction, “he’s not a good person, and he  asked for it. After this, maybe he’ll have a harder time preying on people if he’s been banned from a respectable club. And…” Haru plays his trump card, “you already promised Mistress Lily.”

 

A rueful grin slants Asami’s lips. “So I did.”

 

“I know I don’t have much experience yet, but...whatever it is that’s expected, no matter what, I promise, I’ll do it. I’ll try my hardest.” Haru earnestly attempts to reassure him, the tentative caress of his small hand on his Master’s cheek. “Even if I mess up, I’d hate myself more for not even  trying .”

 

Asami grabs Haru’s chin and lifts it so they are almost nose to nose, shaking him gently.

 

“You are not allowed to hate yourself  at all,  Ito Haruki. It wasn’t too long ago that I was...I was closer than I like to admit to having entirely too much in common with a man like Kenji. You...you and Akihito...it’s because of you that I’ve remembered who I’m supposed to be. It’s not lip service, Haru. It’s nothing but the truth. I don’t deserve you, either of you.”

 

“Yeah, but you can spend the next several years making it up to us,” quips Aki. “Asami...don’t sell Haru short. Kick that loser’s ass into next week.”

 

“Well, with encouragement like  that,”  murmurs Asami. They stand up and face Mistress Lily, who has arranged the strange assortment on her silver tray.”

 

“A test of trust and control,” she announces, winking at them. She picks up the blue rubber balls. “If both of you young men would kneel here where the crosses used to be?”

 

Haru smiles encouragingly at Asami. Encouragingly! At him! He chuckles and shakes his head a little in disbelief. Haru gives Lily a little head-bob of respect as he follows her instructions. Murakawa’s slave, who has finally been introduced to her as Inu, keeps his eyes carefully averted and follows her instructions to the letter. Haru smiles at him when they’ve been put into place, kneeling about six feet apart and facing one another, but Inu does not respond. Asami sees Haru’s face soften in sympathy and sorrow. He knows what his sensitive boy sees in Inu’s expression. Defeat. Emptiness. Self-loathing. Fear. Aching loneliness. He has seen all those things before in someone who had spent too long being ground under Murukawa’s heel. Haru’s spine stiffens and he glances at Asami. There’s hot rage and determination there now. Such a good boy. Haru had been determined to win for his Master’s honor, but now he’s as determined to save Inu.

 

Lily has both boys hold their hands out straight in front of them, hands flat. She drops one of the blue rubber balls onto each of their palms, then she stands and looks down at them for a long minute. It’s actually pretty hard to hold your hand out straight in front of you for very long, and she’s leaving them like that while she explains the game to the audience.

 

“For this trial, our contestants will demonstrate their accuracy with the single tailed whip. These lovely slaves will demonstrate their trust in their Master’s, their endurance, their courage, and eventually their fortitude. You will be only partially judged on your accuracy, my good Sirs. Ultimately, it is up to you how you choose to knock these items to the floor from your slaves’ bodies. I shall judge how well I feel you’ve all completed the tasks based on my years of experience, and you shall accept my judgement because this is my house and you’ve agreed to accept it. Do all of you agree to proceed?”

 

“Yes, yes of course,” rushes Murakawa impatiently. Lily raises one platinum eyebrow imperiously.

 

“As always,” agrees Asami mildly, glancing at Haru, who is studying him keenly, his fathomless midnight eyes darting from Asami to the diminutive Domme as he nibbles his lip thoughtfully. Asami sees from his expression that he’s come to the right conclusion as he lifts his head and addresses Lily directly.

 

“Yes, Mistress Lily,” he says softly. When Murakawa barks out a harsh laugh and makes a snide comment about rude, ignorant boys who haven’t been taught their place, Lily looks down her nose at him even though he’s several feet taller than she is and steps to Haru, stroking her dangerous fingernails through his hair.

 

“I like a boy who knows how to listen,” she says clearly, staring Murakawa down. He mutters angrily under his breath and kicks at Inu, who gasps and stammers out his agreement. Asami lifts the silk bag that contains his favorite of his signal whips. It spills out into his hand very much like a live snake, supple and responsive. He shakes it out and looks at Haru, who is watching him with his lips parted and heat in his eyes. Murakawa’s whip is, unsurprisingly, thicker and longer and heavier than Asami’s. It also has only a leather lash at its tip, not a nylon cracker. It is meant only for pain, not finesse.

 

After a few minutes of explaining the single tail, its use and how it’s made, Lily steps aside with a flourish and bids them to make the balls hit the floor. Murakawa draws back and lets fly. His slave’s arm has begun to tremble a little with the effort of keeping it outstretched for several minutes. Asami thinks the boy looks rather pale and a bit malnourished, as well as very tired. Haru’s hand has not begun to shake. Inu’s ball hits the floor and the boy lets out one short, sharp cry. Asami glances again and sees him sucking on his throbbing fingers.

 

He cracks his whip once in the air, then flicks it at the ball on Haru’s palm. Haru gasps is dismay when the ball rocks but doesn’t fall. Asami grins fiercely and flicks the ball again. It rolls about halfway over and stops. Slowly, inch by inch, Asami rolls the ball down Haru’s hand until it reaches his fingertips. There, he snaps the whip at the front of the ball to keep it from falling, then, quickly, at its back to keep it from rolling back down Haru’s hand. The audience is murmuring in surprise and Haru is laughing delightedly when Asami finally snaps the whip at the ball once last time, sending it soaring up into the air. He steps forward quickly and catches it before it hits the ground, to general applause.

 

The feathers follow the rubber balls, only this time the boys are asked to hold the feather’s in their fingers and not let go,  even when the whip gets alarmingly close to their fingers. Murakawa doesn’t hit Inu’s hand this time, but he shreds the feather with one crack of his whip. Asami slices off an inch at a time starting from the feather’s tip, until all that is left in Haru’s fingers is the bare quill.

 

When they’re required to hold a lit birthday candle between their lips, Murakawa’s whip tears the candle from Inu’s lips, wrenching a pained cry and a few drops of blood from the trembling boy as well. Asami’s whip snuffs out the flame and leaves the candle vibrating in Haru’s mouth. The onlookers applaud again.

 

“But one task remains as a part of this trial,” announces Lily. She orders Haru and Inu to turn so that their backs are to the audience and bids them to lace their fingers behind their heads with their elbows pointed out to the sides. “This is going to hurt, but I’m not making you take them on any of your most sensitive places. Be thankful.”

 

Asami decides to just stop being surprised. Haru’s voice is a little strained because she hasn’t actually done anything to him yet, but it’s clearly audible for all of that.

 

“Thank you, Mistress Lily,” he says softly. Asami feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s an older man, a contemporary of his trainer, who he knows casually.

 

“Who are you training that one for?” asks the man politely. He doesn’t intend to be insulting. No one who knows who Asami is has ever known him to keep a slave for his own. Every one he’s been seen with at a club anywhere in the world has been there with him as a part of his training them. “I’m willing to pay whatever they ask to take him off their hands.”

 

“I am training him for no one,” replies Asami, throttling back on the sudden flash of anger at the man’s words.

 

“Then at his own behest? Does that mean he’s available?” presses the older man. Asami’s hand grips the single tail so hard he feels the edge of every plait of the handle.

 

“No,” he grits out. “He’s not available. He belongs to me.”

 

“To YOU? You mean you’ve finally found one you want to keep?” cries the man incredulously.

 

“For the rest of his life,” murmurs Asami, paying the man little heed now that he’s convinced his own instincts  there’s no threat underlying the words..

 

“Well, I’ll give you this. You have excellent taste,” says the voice, and he senses rather than sees the man retreat back to the sofas and chairs of the seating area. He catches his breath when Lily takes several clothespins in hand. Deftly, she fastens them to the skin on the outside of Inu’s arms so that they dangle down from them, two on each arm. He doesn’t react, but Haru does, sucking in his breath sharply at the pinch.

 

“Now,” she says lightly, standing up straight and stepping back from them, turning to look at Asami and Murakawa, “knock them off.”

 

The other man hefts the whip in his hand a few times, grinning cruelly. His whip hisses and then cracks loudly. The lash wraps around his kneeling slave’s upper arm, ripping a clothespin loose and wringing a yelp of pain from the boy, who sways a little on his knees as a dark red weal appears, wrapped around his arm.

 

Asami shakes his head in disgust and concentrates on Haru. Though the clothespins aren’t pinned to the soft, tender skin on the underside of his arms,they are close, and he winces in sympathy. His own whip hisses backwards and cracks four times in quick succession. Four times a clothespin flies off Haru’s arm.He is still crying out softly in pain from the first pin when the fourth is snapped off. He pants but does not move from his position, even his arms, and Asami doesn’t wait for Lily to declare a winner. He strides to Haru and rubs away the fierce sting himself. Dark bruises bloom on fair skin.

 

“Tch. I’m sorry, sweet boy,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to Haru’s temple.

 

“I’m fine,” responds Haru, leaning against him a little. “And you were right, Master.”

 

“About what?”

 

“The cane definitely hurts worse.”

 

“This isn’t what I had in mind for tonight, you know.” The wry slant of Asami’s mouth makes Haru smile in return.

 

“Yes, I thought it was going to be Aki who got into a fight with someone, but it turned out to be you instead, Master.” Haru says all this with a perfectly innocent expression, but Asami chuckles.

 

“Cheeky boy.”

 

“What do you think will come next?”

Asami looks up briefly and scans the room. Lily is talking quietly with one of her staff, but he sees nothing that hints at the next ordeal. He frowns. “I’m not sure. It could be another test of finesse, or a test of your endurance or obedience, or something else entirely.”

 

The uncertainty is actually a little irritating. He doesn’t like not being able to reassure his boy, but then Haru’s slender fingers rest on his forearm bringing his gaze back to the earnest blue eyes. “I haven’t endured much at all yet, Master, so don’t worry about me. I won’t let you down.”

 

Asami has enough presence of mind remaining to him to find it vaguely hilarious that he hasn’t smiled this much in years, not all in one night, and certainly never inside a fetish club where his title has always seemed to demand a solemn (if not downright severe) manner.

 

Lily announces the next trial then, her sultry voice informing them that this will be a test of how well the Dominants know their submissives and are able to make use of what they know. She seems to be staring quite intently at Asami while she says it. He might even say insistently, and he’s known her long enough to know she’s telling him something.

 

“I want to see how quickly you are able to bring your boys to tears,” she says solemnly. Murakawa chuckles gleefully and sweeps his bullwhip across the floor. Asami looks down at Haru, who for the first time looks frightened, which is a little odd for a boy who craves the tears Asami wrings from his body like nothing he’s ever known. But Lily’s words were speaking to him after all, and he understands Haru’s nerves in the same moment that he realizes what she believes he can do. Haru isn’t afraid of the sort of beating he’d be getting to make him cry. Haru is afraid he’s way too blissed out on everything that’s happened tonight for him to be broken down easily. And he’s right.

 

But there is more than one way to make his boy cry for him, after all. He glances over at the other pair and understands even more about Lily’s urgent and unspoken message. They both know the abusive bastard who is gloatingly stalking around his cowering slave. He’s going to beat that boy bloody to try to force tears from him quickly, since the trial will end the moment one of the two boys sheds a tear. The severity of it is likely to violate the club’s rule about blood flow, and add to the reasons Lily hopes to stack up in favor of rescinding Kenji’s membership, but she doesn’t want him to be able to beat poor Inu for very long. And they’ve both heard the man screaming at past partners to keep their fucking mouths shut while he punished them. Murakawa conditions all his slaves to accept excruciating pain in relative silence. That pitiful boy will have a hard time setting aside what may be months of such conditioning in order to allow himself to cry. If Asami and Haru don’t come through for Lily, an innocent is going to suffer for it. Badly.

 

But Asami does know his boy, and he places a finger on Haru’s lips, shushing him quietly when Haru opens his mouth to express his fears. Asami falls to his knees in front of Haru and takes his boy in his arms.

 

“Hush, Haru-kun, and listen,” he murmurs against Haru’s ear, pleased when Haru goes still and silent at once, though he is trembling a little. “Oh look at you,” he purrs. “You’re afraid you’ll fail me with this one, aren’t you? Believe me, I’m the one on the other end of the strap when you’re so lost in your submission that you don’t even register the whipping as pain. Ah, and I was going to reward you tonight with  such  a long whipping, Haruki...with all the toys I know you like the best...until you were mindless with pain and lust and pleasure...and then fuck you, Haru...over and over...so hard, so deep, until it made you scream, begging me to let you come. I’d have teased you, brought you so close to the edge of your pleasure...again and again...until finally…”

 

Haru’s chest hitches and he grips the front of Asami’s shirt tightly.

 

“Master,” he whimpers, his voice strained with sorrow, “oh please, I can do it, I can! Please Master, let me try….I can…”

 

Asami leans back and raises Haru’s quivering chin on one finger. His eyes are bright with unshed tears.

 

“Haru,” he whispers, brushing his lips over the boy’s trembling mouth. “Haru, instead of that, I’m going to give you anything you want. Anything, my beautiful, perfect little slave, because you couldn’t fail me this night if you tried. Look.”

 

Haru gasps out a ragged little sob, wrenched from his slender body by the confusing welter of emotion Asami draws from him, and Asami catches one shining tear on the tip of his finger, smiling. Again. Haru laughs in spite of himself, more tears spilling down his cheeks.

 

“STOP,” shouts Mistress Lily in a rather startlingly commanding voice to have come from such a small body. Murakawa howls angrily in protest, the entire process having taken barely more than a minute.  Inu’s shivering body is striped with four bleeding lashes. It’s all the bastard has had time to administer.

 

“Have a care, Kenji,” snaps Lily coldly. “Remember the rules of this establishment or I will call this contest to a halt right now.”

 

“Bah,” he growls, and turns his back on her, backhanding his slave carelessly across the face. Asami hears Akihito cry out in anger, but can’t bring himself to reprimand him. His hands itch to clench into fists and beat the arrogance from the man until he is too badly hurt to raise a hand to another slave ever again.

 

“Asami and his Haru win this trial as well. Would you like to concede now, Murakawa, or have you not had enough?” says Lily sweetly. Asami pulls Haru against him in a rough hug while Kenji argues with her pointlessly.

 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters against his boy’s silky black hair. “I’ve manipulated your emotions terribly. I knew it was the fastest way. You’ve been on the verge of crying with happiness since this thing started, and I knew your emotions would be the fastest way to win this trial. You’ve never been able to hide those from me, sweet boy, not even when you’re so deeply dropped that all pain is pleasure to you. Can you forgive your cruel Master?”

 

“I’ll...I’ll think about it,” Haru says with his face pressed up against Asami’s black shirt, “if you promise never ever to combine clothespins, your whip, and my ‘most sensitive places’.” His tears haven’t quite stopped yet, and Asami feels a damp, spreading spot on his chest, but he also feels Haru’s lips curve.

 

Asami laughs softly, mindful of their surroundings, and squeezes Haru for a moment, making his breath huff out of him at the unexpected strength of the embrace. “Agreed.”

 

“But all that other stuff sound really good, Master.” Haru lifts his head and smiles, his eyes framed by thick clumps of dark, wet lashes.

 

“I’ll only combine the clothespins and your most sensitive places, we can save the whip for other things,” continues Asami with a smirk at the affronted expression Haru gives him. He notices expressions of charmed amusement on the faces of most of their audience. They can’t have heard the conversation, it is simply Haru’s personality and the changes wrought in Asami since last he frequented this place that make them smile.

 

“There is but one final task remaining in this contest,” announces Lily, holding up her hands for silence and getting it instantly. She summons four employees and they drag two heavy whipping posts to the front of the room, their bases grinding against the decorative stone of the floor. There are thick manacles at the tops of each post, but with a gesture, she has them taken away. She crosses to Haru and takes his hand from Asami, leading him to the first of the posts and instructing him to stand facing it, then does the same with poor Inu. Once they’re both in place, she orders them to wrap their arms around the posts and hold tightly.

 

“Your final task, gentlemen, is one of artistry, and a test of your pets’ fortitude. As most of you in this room tonight know, every Dominant member of this club is given a unique kanji to represent their name when they join, a single symbol that is used to mark their place, their property. This kanji adorns their seat at the council, their locker in the dressing rooms, their table in the banquet hall, the nametag of their partners or pets...ah, but I digress. Your slaves are your canvasses Gentlemen. Use your whip and paint your mark upon his flesh. There is no time limit this time. The most accurate recreation of your personal mark upon the body of your slave will win the final test. There are conditions. Your boys will not be restrained in any way. Only their obedience to you may keep them in place. And your mark must be more than a faint reddening of the skin. Each stroke must be palpable or it will not count. Finesse is more important than brute strength though,” she adds warningly, looking severely at Murakawa, who rolls his eyes. “You may begin when you are ready.”

 

She steps back with a flourish, relinquishing the floor to the four contestants. Asami notices that his opponent doesn’t speak to Inu, but steps back behind him in preparation of carving his name into the boy’s flesh. Asami walks around the whipping post and looks into Haru’s face.

 

“Are you afraid, little boy?” he asks softly, carding his fingers through Haru’s hair.

 

“No, Master. I want to know what it feels like,” says Haru. Asami can’t see any sign of anxiety on his face.

 

“Such a good boy,” he murmurs. “Well then. This will sting a bit, but it won’t be worse than anything you’ve taken without trouble. I think, in fact, that you’re going to like it. But you must stand very still, Haru. If you develop an itch, need to shift your feet, anything of the like, call out Yellow and I’ll stop at once. Don’t worry, everyone will figure out that it’s not because the sensation is too much for you. It’s the fastest way for you to let me know if anything interferes with your ability to remain absolutely still.”

 

“Yes, Master,” whispers Haru, leaning into Asami’s brief caress.

 

“My symbol is rather intricate. You’ll feel the whip all over your back, and some on your backside and legs as well. I just don’t want you to be surprised. Are you ready?”

 

“Oh yes please,” begs Haru fervently. Asami is still chuckling when he takes his place behind his boy and takes up the whip. He snaps it in the air around Haru a few times. It’s been quite some time since he performed tricks like this with a single tail. He recalls the feel of it quickly as he peruses his canvas, choosing where to lay down the first stroke. He hears the loud, vicious CRACK of the lash cutting into flesh as Murakawa gets to work. Poor Inu moans between closed lips.

 

He paints the first of many red strokes across Haru’s left shoulderblade. The sound of it is much softer than the other contestant’s whip, but the mark it leaves rises up in a faint white welt atop the reddened skin. Haru sucks in his breath and Asami pauses to see how he’ll react. His teeth flash white in his ferocious grin when Haru moans. It is nothing even a little like a pain sound. Another passionate lover of the whip’s kiss is born. It’s easy to find the rhythm of it then, the pattern. To see where the next stroke should go in his mind’s eye. Haru whimpers softly, whispers his name, groans throatily and would almost certainly be writhing with need if it wasn’t crucial for him to remain still. Asami loses himself in the dance of it, in deep satisfaction as he watches the faintly welted lines that make up his symbol appear on Haru’s lovely fair skin.

 

Everything fuzzes out for Haru but the connection of him to his Master at the touch of the whip that lays burning strokes on his flesh. The hot sting of it seems to linger much longer after the initial strike, sustaining the sharp heat that grows with each flourish. He hugs the post tightly, hardly daring to breath, not wanting to mar in the slightest the mark Asami is inscribing.

 

It’s almost unbearably erotic and strikes a chord within Haru. His Master’s mark, laid out on his skin by his Master’s hand, by his astonishing skill, and accompanied by this exquisite pain, it nourishes something deep inside him, illuminates the depth of his desire to submit, not to just anyone, but to  this man.

 

Asami is not so lost to his surroundings. He can’t afford to be, and, dimly, he hears Murakawa’s unfortunate slave moaning in pain behind clenched teeth, then crying out softly and finally, unable to contain his agony, shrieking. He blots the sound from his mind though he wants very much to put a stop to the boy’s torment, and concentrates on the work of art he and Haru create together. The boy stands stock still, giving voice to the heat he feels, but he never so much as flinches. The lash dances in and out, painting him with red, marking him as Asami’s, and it fills Asami’s black soul with a wild, fierce exultation. Mine, he thinks. And I’ll never let you go.

 

When he finishes, he goes and stands beside Haru, draping the whip around his boy’s neck. Haru turns his head and kisses it softly as Asami lays it down. His eyes are black with desire, his body quivering with need. Despite the room full of people, his arousal is blatant. Asami wonders briefly how they’d all react if he knelt down and took Haru’s cock in his mouth right here and now. Or how Haru would react. Perhaps it’s best to wait a bit.

 

Murakawa finishes with a flourish and walks to the back of the room to get a drink of water from the server there, leaving Inu shuddering and sobbing at the whipping post. Mistress Lily walks over to Asami and Haru, reaching out with her cool fingers to trace the design Asami has created over Haru’s flesh. The boy shudders at her touch, and she smiles softly.

 

“He is a treasure, Ryuichi,” she says warmly.

 

“Yes, he is,” agrees Asami, taking Haru’s hand and gently leading him back over to the leather ottoman.

 

Haru senses reel, and he follows Asami like a newborn colt and only half-conscious of this naked arousal and the audience that surrounds them. But if he even blushes, it’s hidden by the pretty flush that already suffuses his skin. The burn of the lines Asami drew upon on his back remains, so much that he feels the mark must fairly glow, and he wishes desperately for a mirror so that he could see for himself his Master’s handiwork.

 

“Exquisite,” whispers Lily as she lets her hand fall to her side, admiring Asami’s Mark on Haru’s body while Asami seats himself on the padded bench and takes Haru onto his lap. Akihito drapes a light blanket over Haru’s shoulders and hands Asami a glass of cold apple juice he’s fetched for them.

 

“Thank you, Aki,” says Asami, pressing the glass to Haru’s lips while he watches Lily. She stalks to one of the club’s Dungeon Masters and holds a brief, whispered conversation. The man walks over to Inu and lifts him gently into strong arms. Inu hides his face in the man’s shirt and shakes. Lily corners Murakawa by the bar at the back of the room.

 

“As agreed, the terms of this contest were that the loser would leave this club and never return. You’ve lost, Kenji, with no doubt in anyone’s mind.”

 

“I’m better than that self-aggrandizing prick any day and you know it,” snaps Murakawa furiously. “He’s probably fucking you, so you’ve played favorites with him and his little piece of trash.”

 

“What you are,” sneers Lily coldly, “is a brute, a bully, and an insecure little prick. You have no skill, no finesse, no artistry. Your slave fears you rather than trusts you. You embarrassed yourself tonight, and on top of your agreement to leave if you lost the contest, you have flaunted the rules of my club with no regard, cutting that boy’s skin with your whip so that he is dripping blood on my floor, you have ignored my instruction when I reminded you of the rule against such brutality, and you have left your boy bleeding and crying, alone, with no regard for his well-being, which is also against the rules. I hereby, with GREAT pleasure, revoke your membership and ban you from this establishment for the rest of your life.”

 

“You can’t do that!” shouts Murakawa furiously, looming over her and practically spitting in her face with fury.

 

“I just have. Now get out,” says Lily coldly and goes to check on Inu. Murakawa makes one attempt to collect what he loudly insists is his property, but Lily softly asks Inu if he wants to go with the man, and everyone in the room sees his terrified head-shake. When Black Rose employees appear to physically escort him from the premises, Murakawa breaks away from them and makes a rush at Asami. He sets Haru on the ottoman smoothly and is on his feet before the angrily shouting man can reach them. Coolly, he watches the charge and then just before Murakawa bowls into him, his fist shoots out and catches the man square in the nose. He keels over as though poleaxed. None of the club employees seem overly concerned for his well-being as he’s helped none too gently to his feet and thrown bodily from the building. Placidly, Asami sits back down and puts Haru back on his lap.

 

“Well then,” he muses, “I’m afraid tonight will be a tough act to follow the next time I take you boys to a fetish club. I hope you won’t be terribly bored.”

 

Nobody says anything for a minute, and then Aki snickers, and Haru lets out a giggle, and the next second, all three of them laugh outright for several seconds. It’s a release of the tension they’d all been holding in in some form or another, relief that’s all over, and it came out in their favor. Though, they would all adamantly claim there was never any doubt.

 

Haru sobers after a moment and looks toward the door where the man carrying Inu had gone through. “Will that boy be all right?” Haru picks up Asami’s hand and looks a little sadly at his scraped knuckles, tenderly cradling it in his own. “Do you think that Mura--”

 

“No,” Asami says quickly. “Haru, once he said he didn’t want to go with Murakawa, that was it. He’s under Mistress Lily’s protection now. She’ll see to it that he gets the support he needs.” Asami sighs. “Sadly, this kind of situation happens from time to time. He won’t be alone.”

 

Haru nods, and his expression clears a little, and he shoots a bright grin at Akihito before turning it back on Asami. “You were really cool, though.”

 

“Yeah, “ Aki says with a snicker. “Pretty good punch for an old guy.”

 

Asami glances down at the redness and slight swelling of his knuckles and bares his teeth. He wouldn’t go so far as to call it a smile.

 

“Let us say it is fortunate for Murakawa that the club has a strict no weapons policy beyond knives used for play, which must be checked at the door,” he says grimly. He doesn’t know whether it should surprise him or not that Haru calmly agrees with him. Once again, it makes him wonder how much Aki has actually told Haru. Anything at all? Can Haru possibly think he’s only joking? He shakes his head a little and brings himself back to the now as they are surrounded by the other club VIP’s, offering congratulations and lavish compliments. Asami’s used to lavish compliments, but he revels a little in these, because here, tonight, he knows they are sincere for once, and not a transparent attempt to win his favor. More than one person cheerfully tells Haru that if he should ever tire of Asami, they’d like to snap him up in a hot minute. Asami throttles back his baser urge to snarl and show his claws in protection of his property. Haru’s mute withdrawal and the way he shakes his head and leans closer to his Master makes the point quite clear.

 

They’re given some space and privacy at last, and Asami picks up Haru’s clothing to help him back into them, but he shakes his head and cranes his neck and Asami’s frown clears.

 

“You want to see your back?” he asks smugly.

 

“Yes please,” says Haru eagerly, turning in a circle as if it will make his neck twist farther. It’s so damned cute he almost can’t stand it. “How does it look, Aki? Awesome?”

 

“It’s pretty fuckin cool,” agrees Aki, standing up and taking his phone out of a side pocket of the toy bag where it had been stowed to keep it safe when Asami yanked down his pants to spank him. He pushes Haru over to where one of the recessed lights in the ceiling is directly overhead and takes several pictures of his back. Then, as Asami helps him into his clothes, Haru hops on one foot and nearly falls over, having no attention to spare for anything other than the welted design on his back.

 

“Ohh,” he breathes. Aki rests his chin on Haru’s shoulder and looks at the screen too, and they chatter with each other about how cool it is. Asami gives up on getting the red t-shirt back onto Haru any time soon and sits back in a big, comfortable armchair. He just watches them for a minute, pride of ownership written all over his face. Lily appears at his side and sits next to him.

 

“Their manners aren’t perfect, and they don’t adhere to accepted training strictures, but to be honest, I hope you never get them to that point. They’re so lovely just as they are,” she says, laying a hand on his arm.

 

“I agree,” he says softly, watching as Aki touches the marks on Haru’s back and Haru winces a little, then laughs at Aki’s stricken expression. Aki shoves him a little and Haru shoves back and then they’re kissing each other, unaware that pretty much everyone in the room is watching them.

 

“Are they always like that?”

 

“No,” says Asami. “It’s something new almost every day. Akihito’s quite a brat much of the time, and sometimes Haru worries too much. They don’t bicker though, except in jest, and there isn’t a truly mean bone in either of their bodies.”

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happy before, my friend. I’ve thought I had in the past, but looking at you now...no. Not until tonight.”

 

“I am happy,” he agrees, chuckling when Haru bites Aki’s lip. They seem to hear him, both their heads swiveling in his direction. They scurry to his side, although Aki remembers himself and saunters unconcernedly the last few feet. Haru kneels in front of them both and looks up earnestly. Asami lays a hand on the boy’s head and Lily smiles.

 

“May I get either of you something to drink?” asks Haru eagerly. He reminds Asami a little bit of an eagerly wriggling puppy, and even though he’s not thirsty, he asks Haru to bring him a glass of water, and Lily laughs softly and requests fruit juice. He trots off to the bar and returns a minute later, a glass in each hand. He carefully goes to his knees, beaming when he does so smoothly. It’s something they’ve been practicing, along with the way he bows his head and offers up their drinks without spilling a drop, patiently waiting for them to take the glasses from his hands. Asami gestures at the boy after they’ve divested him of his offerings and Haru sits at his feet, leaning his head on Asami’s knee. Aki flops down beside him and puts his head in Haru’s lap.

 

“I’ve sent Murakawa’s boy home with Mirai,” says Mistress Lily. Asami nods.

 

“He’s been with you a long time. He’s good with the frightened ones. I’ll make my personal physician available to you if the boy doesn’t want to go to the hospital.” When she agrees, he fires off a text message to Kirishima to contact Yamato, then puts him in touch with Liliana’s long-time head Dungeon Master. Mirai has a knack for the wounded ones, the damaged and the broken. He is entirely Dominant, but he’s soft-spoken, kind and infinitely patient.

 

They chat a little more, then he notices that Haru is starting to sag a little bit. It’s not terribly late, but the boy has been through an intense experience, and the adrenaline is draining away, slowly leaving him sleepy. He thanks Lily for her hospitality, promises to renew his membership, and takes his leave, picking Haru up. Haru rouses himself and protests, but Asami chuckles softly.

 

“Perhaps I just want to carry you. Hush. I’d just as soon not start beating you until I get you home and you’re a bit more alert, but if you’d like to argue, I can start while we wait for the limo to arrive.”

 

Haru blushes and submits to being carried through the club, but he does unexpectedly proclaim, "You  can’t use the whip tonight, Asami-sama!"

 

"Oh?" Asami lifts an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

 

Haru nods, peering up at Asami through a fall of dark, messy bangs. "Not on my back anyway. Not while your mark is still there. I don't want it messed up. How long do you think it will stay? You won't, will you? I want Aki to take more pictures with his good camera. Please?"

 

Asami has to suppress a grin at the rapid fire progression of thoughts and demands and questions, and tries to firmly tell himself while looking into Haru's soulful eyes that he's most certainly  not going to be wound so easily around the finger of a mere slip of a boy.

 

"Oh, yeah," Aki enthuses, adding his own wide-eyed plea. "I could get some really cool shots. Can we, Asami?"

 

Make that two horribly heart-tugging boys. The universe is definitely repaying him for his earlier manipulation of Haru's emotions.

 

“I said anything you wanted, did I not?” he replies genially, feeling very good about himself that he can give the boy what he’d promised as opposed to letting himself be led around by the nose because that’s definitely not what’s happening here.


	15. Whipped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Asami and his boys arrive home after their night at the club. Haru wants more of the whip. For both of them.
> 
> The scene in this chapter and the one following will be more intense than usual, as Asami slowly lets his darker side out to play. It is still consensual, but it's pretty brutal as it goes on. so be aware of that before reading.
> 
> And also be aware that this is, STILL, an AU fic containing both canon and non-canon relationships.

Haru recovers an astonishing amount of energy during the car ride home as he and Aki recount everything that happened in a blow-by-blow retelling, bouncing on the car’s soft seats and consuming super-sized cups of peach bubble tea they convince him to stop and make Suoh get for them.

  
  


“I’ve created monsters,” he mutters to himself as they wrestle over the last piece of Pocky (also acquired from the street cart which had sold them the bubble tea) and make plans for what they want to do the next time they go to Black Rose.

 

Haru crawls back into his lap and kisses him thoroughly while Aki plots the right backdrop against which to showcase Haru’s back for the pictures. He wonders whether he can blame senility when he mindlessly opens his mouth as he’s offered some of someone’s tea and he coughs when he swallows the almost syrupy sweet liquid and is left with a mouthful of chewy tapioca pearls. At least the pearls themselves aren’t sweet. He feels vaguely ridiculous trying to be stern with a mouthful of tapioca, but tries anyway.

 

“The next one of you who tries to poison me like that again is going to be fifty years old before they’re able to sit down again,” he growls. Haru and Aki giggle. At him. His hand glides gently up Haru’s back in a soft caress, then cups the round curve of his skull. Haru practically purrs and leans into his hand, then yelps when Asami’s fingers clench abruptly into a fist and yank his head back. He nips the boy’s collarbone sharply and flicks his tongue at the soft skin of his throat, sucking it into his mouth and biting there too. At Haru’s helpless groan he sits back, vindicated, and pushes Haru off his lap to sit on the seat beside him. Grinning vindictively, he grabs Akihito and throws him unceremoniously over his lap. As he’s working the squirming wretch’s jeans down his hips, he pins Haru with a dangerous look.

 

“Get the hairbrush out of the toy bag for me, Haru-kun, and then hold Akihito’s hands for me. He’s not going to be able to be still on his own. I can’t spank you if you’re to have your wish, because the design is partly on your ass and thighs too, so I’m going to have to occupy myself by seeing if I can match the color of Aki’s backside to shot number 237 of yours from yesterday by the time we reach the penthouse. At that point, my lovely little slaveboy, the two of you may have 30 minutes to immortalize your body as my canvas. You’d better start thinking now about what you want after that!”

 

He takes the hairbrush from Haru while Aki kicks and yells in protest and then remorselessly paddles his squirming backside until he’s howling and doesn’t feel like kicking anymore.

 

Despite his threat of sorts and Akihito's second paddling of the night, their energy doesn't seem to dissipate at all when they finally enter the penthouse. Aki pulls an eager Haru down the hall to retrieve his camera, and by the time Asami gets his own shoes off and his jacket hung and heads after his two boys who seem to have forgotten all about him, he's lost sight of them completely.

 

He hears sounds from Aki's photography room, but he bypasses it to drop his leather case in the bedroom. He finds Haru there, standing in the middle of his walk-in closet completely naked save for the leather collar that still circles his throat. His usually neat boy has shed his clothes carelessly at his feet, and he's peering raptly over his shoulder at his reflection in the three way mirror.

 

Asami doesn't move, but drinks in the play of emotion across Haru's features. Haru hugs himself, twisting his spine to take in the marks that haven't faded yet, his round bottom curving enticingly. A small sound, like a swallowed moan, issues from Haru's throat, as if merely looking at those thin, red welts has taken his power of speech and left him inarticulate with arousal.

 

"Haru." Asami advances slowly, deliberately, circling around the boy's naked form, his blood surging as he notices the way Haru's flesh pebbles in anticipation of his words and touch. His pretty cock is already swollen, his pink nipples taut, begging to be teased.

 

Asami moves behind him, blocking his view, not touching yet, but stepping close enough to breathe in Haru's scent, to feel the heat of his body. The shutter of a camera clicks, and Asami smiles fiercely, knowing his other little stray has returned.

 

"What shall it be, sweet boy?" Asami purrs and circles to the constant sound of Akihito's whirring shutter. "After we've taken all the pretty pictures you desire?"

 

"The whip," Haru breathes without hesitation, the honest, aching need in his eyes hitting Asami like a punch to the gut. "Oh, please, Master. Until I cry and cry. Aki too..." His liquid gaze finds Akihito. "You have to feel it...oh...it's..." His mouth opens but he shakes his head and looks to Asami.

 

Asami stops him with his fingertips to Haru’s lips.

 

“Yes. Yes, Haru, as much as you want,” he swears softly. He looks over his boy’s head to where Aki stands in the door, his camera in his hands, speechless and with fear widening his hazel eyes. “Don’t be afraid, Aki-kun. Have I always known what you could take, or have I not?”

 

There’s a longish pause while he turns back to Haru and holds on to his lovely, trembling body as though Haru needs a lifeline, then he feels Akihito’s hand on his arm. He looks, and his lips quirk in a smile and he opens his hand to accept the handle of the whip that Akihito presses on him.

 

“You do know,” says Aki solemnly. “You always know.”

 

“That’s my good boy,” says Asami, stepping back. “I’ll leave you to this, then. Thirty minutes, Aki-kun, no more.”

 

He turns to go, then he’s stopped by a hand gripping his wrist urgently.

 

“Please, Asami-sa-sama,”  whispers Aki. “I know exactly how I want to capture him, but I need you. I need him to look at you like he’s looking right now…”

 

Asami looks down at Haru, who is staring at him as though he’s nothing but desperate, parched thirst and Asami is the drink of water that will save him. His lips curl up on one side in a self-deprecating smile and he glances at Aki.

 

“I know what you mean,” he agrees softly, wondering if either of them realize exactly what he’s admitting when he says it. Probably not. They’re both too lost in the moment for subtleties. “All right then, what will you have of me, Akihito?”

 

They traipse into the play room, behind Aki who is now running the show. He turns on lights and pulls equipment around, presses buttons and mutters under his breath, frowning and chewing on his finger. Haru wanders to the mirrored wall of this room and is lost to them again, while Asami chuckles at Aki and asks him what it is he’s aiming for, exactly. Between then two of them, they clear almost everything from the walls so that the room is mirror and steel, with a heavy black cross in the middle, in front of the single large mirror. Asami cuffs Haru to the cross, stretching his wrists and ankles wide so that he is spread to the straining point. Aki snaps images of the whole process, but still gives directions until he’s happy with the way Haru looks. Then he creeps and crawls and climbs all over the room, taking pictures of Haru from every possible angle. Haru practically ignores him, his eyes riveted to his Master, just as Aki wants it. Asami leans against a wall and meets Haru’s black-blown stare with one of his own. The only time Haru pays attention to Akihito is when he feels Aki has been shooting him from the side or front for too long.

 

“Are you getting it?” he demands with a little frown in his boyfriend’s direction. “I want to be able to see my back. Make sure you get the whole design.”

 

“Haru?” mutters Aki absently, turning down one of the lights and bumping up another.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I’m fucking this cat. You just hold its head.”

 

Haru looks bewildered, but Asami bursts out laughing, having heard that particular comment before.

 

“He means you’re just along for the ride, so shut up and let him do his job,” he supplies helpfully when he’s done snickering. Haru looks a little offended.

 

“That,” he announces with dignity, “is not very nice.”

 

“Probably not for the cat,” murmurs Asami, still amused. Haru transfers the offended look to him and he holds up his hands. “Don’t look at me. You KNOW I’m not very nice.” Haru’s gaze softens.

 

“Yes you are,” he says dreamily. “You’re the best Master in the whole world.”

 

“How’s it coming, Akihito? If I don’t give him something else to think about pretty soon, he’s going to have me nominated for sainthood.”

 

Aki steps back and takes a last dozen or so pictures from directly behind Haru and then nods with satisfaction.

 

“I’ve almost filled up my memory card,” he says, sounding smug. “If he’s not happy with several hundred pictures, well, he’s just shit out of luck.”

 

“Excellent,” says Asami. “Now strip.”

 

“I’ll just tra….what?” Aki straightens up from putting his camera in its case and stares dumbly at Asami, mouth open in surprise.

 

“I’m reasonably certain you know what all of those words mean,” says Asami, going to the control panel on the wall and dropping the wide, padded platform from the ceiling, along with a long, single length of chain. He guides Haru to the platform and makes him sit on it while he rearranges the room again.

 

“But I thought….”

 

“Haru said Aki too,” says Asami, pushing the cross back into its corner and opening a drawer in the wall to get out another set of leather cuffs. “And you’re wearing too many clothes.” He turns down the lights so that the room glows, no longer needing the brighter light to capture the fine detail of the pattern on Haru’s skin. Setting the whip down beside Haru, who picks it up and runs it through his fingers as though he’s petting it, he steps to another panel and turns on the sound system, setting the music low. He likes the accompaniment, but he wants to be able to hear the sounds his boys will be making more.

 

Akihito begins to obey him, but he still looks nervous. Asami rolls his eyes a little and takes the whip from Haru. Huffing out an amused sigh, he points at Aki.

 

“Enough. You’re acting like this thing is a cobra. Stand still. Turn your back to me and bend over a little.”

 

Aki gulps, but does as ordered. Asami admires the view of his tight little ass for a few moments, then cracks the whip in his direction. Akihito flinches, until Asami actually makes the nylon cracker dance across his ass.

 

“Ohh,” he breathes in surprise.

 

“Still think it’s going to scar you for life?” asks Asami with a smirk. Aki looks at him over his shoulder, his eyes wide.

 

“Asami….that’s...it’s…”

 

“It’s what?” he prods, suppressing a chuckle.

 

“It’s  awesome! ”

 

“Toldjya,” says Haru triumphantly.

 

Asami guides Aki to the platform and puts them on their knees facing one another. He cuffs their hands over their heads to the chain he has waiting and makes sure they’re comfortable.

 

“Ready?” he asks softly, with a filthy smile at the sight of them, naked and straining their lithe little bodies towards one another.

 

Both boys throw him speaking looks that convey their disbelief that he is even asking such a question, when he surely knows the answer already, and he suppresses a smirk as Haru manages to issue a respectful reply for both of them. " Please , Master." His gaze drops to the whip in Asami's hand, and whispers. "Don't tease."

 

"Very well, then," he answers softly, his cock filling the snug quarters within his jeans as Aki licks into Haru's mouth in an obvious attempt to provoke him to action. It works, and the whip cracks in the air next to them. Akihito gasps and the chains jingle, but Haru moans at the mere sound of it. Their mouths separate, shiny-lipped and slack, and then Akihito begins to cry out in a rhythm of Asami's making.

 

The tableau is striking. Akihito's body bows and tenses, his buttocks flexing beautifully with each lash that he lays on the boy's fine skin. Haru's eyes glow as he drinks in Akihito's expression. Asami catches that mesmerizing reflection in the mirror, the flickering of pain and pleasure as the whip kisses Akihito's back, contorting his features into a picture of erotic bliss.

 

He does no more than warm Aki's flesh because the night is young. He has no intention of ending this soon, and he wants his brave, sweet boy to come to crave this new sensation as deeply as the other kinds of pain he adores. When he knows the sting of the soft burn will linger, heightening Akihito's arousal to unignorable simmer, he steps around the kneeling boys and smiles with feral satisfaction to see Haru's slender body shudder.

 

He waits.

 

" Master... "

 

Yes, there it is, and he lifts his whip to answer the throbbing little plea of his slave.

 

It’s not because they run roughshod over him that he’s been so indulgent of them tonight. If he’s honest, he likes the way his mark looks on Haru’s flesh a lot more than he’d anticipated. The system is one most such clubs in Asia use, he’s just been away from it long enough to have forgotten...and hadn’t really considered how much more the...trappings, the symbols, would mean to him when he had someone to share them with. He’d considered the clubs lost to him as more than a curiosity when he’d accepted that Akihito would never be the kind of sub who’d want to wear his collar. Having Haru in their lives hasn’t just changed those things for Asami, they’ve changed for Akihito too, because he’s obviously and unabashedly happy for Haru, and seems to want to indulge him nearly as much as Asami does...well, when he’s not leaping into trouble with him.

 

Haru’s squirming with eagerness and he shakes himself out of the introspection with a silent laugh at what his life has become, while he stares avidly at the red lines that shape his kanji on Haru’s body. The welts have subsided somewhat. He pulls the whip back and grins like a fiend.

 

He’s lost none of his skill. The first lash overlays the first stroke of the earlier whipping. Systematically, he drives his mark back into Haru’s flesh with a ferocity he’d held in check before. Haru cries out, his body trembling, and this time there’s pain in the sound but it’s not one whit less joyful than the sounds in his voice earlier this night. He gives Haru what he’s asked for, trusting that the desire he’s expressed is nothing more than the truth. 

 

Over and over, for the first little while, he revisits the fading lines celebrating his ownership. He doesn’t think Haru can tell what he’s doing exactly, because there’s no real pattern to it, but he thinks the boy won’t be sorry when he sees that these marks will take more than a few hours to fade. He only works to refresh the whip strokes on Haru’s back, because for all that he is wielding the whip harder, the control necessitated by what he’s creating requires at least a certain amount of restraint and it’s only because he’s revisiting tender spots that the whipping makes Haru let out the ragged little desperate cries that go straight to Asami’s cock, so very like the ones torn from him when Asami is deep within his body, the lines between pain and pleasure blurred. He’s going to sacrifice the detail lower down on Haru’s body a little later, to give him what he’s asked for. Until I cry and cry, he’d said.

 

Part of him would like nothing more than to lash Haru into the mindless surrender he craves right now. He could do it easily. Surrender is always easy for Haru, but he knows neither of them really want it to come so quickly tonight. He drapes the whip around his neck and guides them both into turning around until they’re back to back. Again, he starts with Akihito. Partly this is because kneeling there not knowing what’s coming while he plays with Haru would be frightening for him, and partly because kneeling there not knowing what’s coming while he plays with Akihito isn’t frightening for Haru at all.

 

Aki opens cloudy hazel eyes and whispers his name. His cock stands out from his body, at attention and wet at the tip.

 

“Asami,” whispers Aki, “...what?”

 

“Do you trust me, Aki-kun?” he purrs softly. Akihito shivers, as though Asami’s voice brushes across his skin in a tangible caress.

 

“Yes,” he breathes.

 

“Remember that,” says Asami, and lifts the whip again. Aki’s eyes widen a little and his body stiffens and Asami lowers it. staring him down, until the boy relaxes and nods a little, releasing the breath he’s holding.

 

This session with the whip is different from his first. The very tip of its nylon cracker brushes and breathes across his skin, teasing his chest and the quivering muscles of his belly. Asami adds the tiniest bit of bite when the whip reaches out to touch his nipples. Aki lets out little panting cries that are part nerves at the risk of what Asami’s doing. He shrieks when the whip taunts his aching cock and the tight swell of his balls. The reddened flesh of his erection darkens, but Asami is careful...oh, so very careful...not to cause actual pain to this supremely sensitive area. He lets the lash bite a little harder at the trembling muscle of inner thigh, and the whole time, though he pays attention to what he’s doing, his hot honeyed gaze returns to drink in the expressions of terror and excitement and shock on Aki’s mobile face. When he’s done, the first of his boys is shuddering and gasping for breath and pleading with him for something he doesn’t even understand.

 

Akihito’s terror when he realizes Asami intends to whip him on the front of his body lasts about as long as the first two strokes of the whip. Every nerve in his body is on edge and he’s so turned on he’s about to cry from sheer want, but he dimly remembers laughing at Asami when he’d claimed that a whip like this could actually be used so delicately that it would cause no pain at all, just a whisper of a touch, a tickle. The very tip of the braided nylon cracker attached to the end of the whip flicks his nipple and he can’t hold back a soft moan of pleasure. Writhing and tugging against the cuffs, he watches Asami through hooded eyes and his lover takes his breath away. Tonight Asami has set aside the trappings of wealth and station and let his true power off its leash. His eyes burn, molten gold and black. His dark hair falls in his eyes and he seems to radiate heat and sex in a way Aki has only seen hinted at until now, when Asami is completely in his element. The black t-shirt clings to him like a second skin, but Aki finds it frustrating.

 

“Y-yuh---you’re wearing too many clothes,” he manages to complain plaintively. Asami’s teeth flash white in a savage smile and he pauses long enough to strip the shirt off.

 

“Is that better, my cute Takaba?”

 

“Yeah,” sighs Aki, his body straining unconsciously towards Asami, eyes roaming over the body he can never get enough of, drinking down the man’s breathtaking, raw beauty. A wicked chuckle trickles through bared teeth and Asami draws the whip back again.

 

He loses track of time as he strokes and teases his Akihito with the whip, lets it become almost an extension of his own body, walks it over all the places he knows Aki like to be touched, and leaves him nearly sobbing with need. He lets his arm fall to his side and swivels his head to stare at Haru, head and shoulders down, eyes predatory with hunger as he stalks around in front of Haru’s body and waits until Haru’s head lifts and his pupils dilate even further in response to the expression on Asami’s face.

 

The first whispering stroke brushes one tight pink nipple and Haru throws his head back and moans desperately. Asami’s grin widens and the next stroke teases the other. He taunts the front of Haru’s body with the soft nylon, inflicting no more than a soft blush to his more vulnerable front side. Haru strains towards the whip, but though he’s high as a kite on the rush of sensation, Asami won’t risk actually hurting any part of him he won’t enjoy the residual effects of tomorrow. He just torments his beautiful boy with proof of his skill, his control, his knowledge of Haru’s body and the whip’s dance.

 

Far from taming the beast that lives inside him, this second stage, the tease of his whip, only makes what’s inside Asami sit up and salivate with hunger.

 

“Poor little boys,” Asami says with nothing but wicked satisfaction, and not an ounce of true sympathy. “Look at the state you’re in, and we’ve only barely begun. My adorable little sluts.” They both blush, their slender wrists jerking in the chains as if instinctively they would somehow hide their bobbing, swollen cocks if they could. Asami chuckles dark and deep. But they’re not allowed to hide from him.

 

He slithers the whip over each aching column of flesh in turn just to hear them moan again as their wanton little hips writhe. His dirty little angels with whom he’s quite inexplicably found common ground. Perhaps not quite the abyss he’d promised to drag Akihito to not so very long ago, and perhaps not quite Heaven either, but they’ve carved out some nameless territory for themselves in between.

 

Two little treasures on theirs knees, gazing up with something like worship in their pretty eyes.

 

No. Call it what it is , he mocks himself for prevaricating. Love.

 

The knowledge of his hubris strikes him again, as it had earlier at the club. His presumption to assume responsibility of two such creatures is beyond the pale, his overwhelming pride of possession oh so seductively fed by the blazing longing that they exude, their sweet voices and yielding bodies, and the astounding, addictive trust they place in his hands.

 

But, he is what is. He takes what he wants. His dark humor, inwardly directed, manifests in a rather terrifying smirk, and Asami rolls his shoulders in a light stretch, gratified by the mesmerized gazes that follow the flexing of his bared chest and then widen as he hefts the whip.

 

“Turn around,” he says, his voice a rumbling growl. He hopes they’re ready because finesse is about to take a flying leap. Part of him doesn’t care if they’re ready. He’s too good to do them real damage with this implement. Why has he kept it from their repertoire for so long, when the elegance, the artistry of it calls to his sense of aesthetics, when its capacity for both the brutal and the exquisite so perfectly suits him, when his body knows the steps of its dance like an old and precious lover. They have to wriggle and shuffle on their knees to face each other again but he wants to watch them struggle.

 

Akihito first, he tells himself. He won’t be able to handle what happens when Asami really loses himself, and he intends to, because in Haru he’s found a partner who can not only take what he can dish out, but craves it like the air he breathes. He not entirely sure though, that he has enough of himself left to know when Aki’s had enough. He leans in and presses his lips to Haru’s ear.

 

“Are you in there, pretty pet?”

 

Haru rolls his eyes sideways to look at his Master’s face and his throat moves as he swallows at what he sees there.

 

“Y-yes Master,” he whispers.

 

“Tell me when he’s had enough,” he snarls softly, nipping Haru’s earlobe sharply as he pulls back. Haru nods once and Asami turns to Aki and grins.

 

His brain can’t forget his visceral understanding of what makes both of his boys tick, so he brings the whip to bear on Aki’s round little ass first. He hasn’t felt much pain on his back yet, and Asami wants his tears to be the aching, desperate, needful kind. Because he’s going to cry. Oh yes.

 

Aki howls from the first lash this time. The whip bites hard, snapping at his soft skin with loud reports or digging its tongue into his cheeks in long lines of fire. It doesn’t break skin, is too well-made for that, not designed to rip and tear, braided by a master whip maker, not a sadist. The tail of Murakawa’s bullwhip is hardened leather, not a supple braid all the way down its length. Asami has to try to make a victim bleed with this whip. And that comes later. And with a different victim. The loud crack and thick slap of leather on skin is a song he knows by heart. Akihito’s cries and squeals are the perfect harmony.

 

“Ah-ah-Asami!” he cries pitifully. “It hurts, oh it hurts!”

 

“ Good, ” hisses Asami, letting the whip brand its hot kiss across Aki’s shoulders. He screams, and Asami follows it with another stroke to his reddened, welted backside. Akihito bursts into tears and Asami leans down and licks one off the boy’s hot face. Aki leans his head towards his lover and Asami chuckles softly, ominously. and licks away another.

 

“Give me more of your tears, my sweet Takaba. I don’t think I’m finished with you yet.”

 

The whip curls almost caressingly around Aki’s thighs, stinging the tender skin between his legs, and he shrieks. It paints his shoulders and upper back red, licks flame into his quivering bottom. Akihito yowls and cries and squirms but never once does his erection flag. The whip is cruel but it isn’t heartless. He nudges Akihito close to the edge of too much, but stays barely on the side of just enough. For as long as he can. Soon...or perhaps a very great while later, because he can’t tell, little Aki is sobbing too hard to form words. He’s beautiful in his suffering, his face flushed and his silky skin marked by Asami’s hand, trembling and lost in tears.

 

“Master,” says Haru finally, and Asami has - just - the presence of mind to remember his request. “Master, he’s had enough.”

 

Asami pulls the stroke he’s already started, wrenching the whip from its path. It curls behind him and he pays the price for not allowing it to stay its course as it paints its brutal kiss up his back instead. He throws his head back and hisses, the pain singing through his blood. He’s too far under its spell to resent the price it exacts. He’s mistreated it, after all, yanked on it with no regard for its chosen path, and the price is just. It only inflames him more, the beast within him not disliking the pain one bit. He bends at the waist, leans over the platform on which his little pets kneel, planting one hand and panting hard. Slowly, he lifts his head, raising his eyes to pin them on Haru’s wide-eyed stare. One corner of his mouth curls up very slowly in a wolfish sneer.

 

“Will you sing for me now, little Haru?” he purrs wickedly.


	16. The Beast Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami lets himself lose control, allows his inner beast out to play. He knows it is a calculated risk, that it may be too much for his sweet little lovers to take, or to accept. And yet it feels so good.
> 
> (This final section is pretty intense! It remains 100% consensual, but it's more violent than Asami usually is with Aki and Haru.)

Haru looks at Asami as if he’s never seen him before. His entire body seems to throb to the wild, escalating beat of his heart in the face of this man stripped of his civilized trappings. For now, the hidden feralness of that golden gaze is laid bare, capering with visceral glee as he contemplates unleashing his primal appetites on Haru’s vulnerable form.

 

Asami’s nostrils actually flare at the trepidation revealed by Haru’s helpless shudder and the saucer-eyed gaze that’s riveted on his Master. It’s the best kind of fear, though, this giving over to someone so blatantly untamed and unpredictable and full of raw power. Hunger. Haru knows he won’t escape tonight unscathed.

 

Asami-sama’s eyes challenge him, dare him to fall into what he can give. Everything Haru has always wanted is here in this room tonight. The reality of that still floors him. His chin lifts infinitesimally, and his gaze darkens as he remembers back to that moment that changed everything for him. His master hasn’t forgotten either, and Haru courts the beast crouched in front of him with headlong surrender to his fate. “You can’t make me cry.”

 

Fierce exultation surges through Asami’s heated blood, firing his brain to even more fevered heights. Ohh, thinks the predator inside, oh it’s good when they run...but it’s better when they fight. Such pretty prey too. He leans close, inhales Haru’s scent.

 

“Ohh,” he sighs, “oh Haru. You will scream. You will bleed...and you will cry...but I hope you fight me as hard as you did the very first time.”

 

He turns back to Akihito, who is crying softly and shuddering, sagging in his cuffs. He reaches up and unbuckles them, catching Aki as he slumps a little with his hands cradling the boy’s face and he devours the swollen, reddened lips with his own. Akihito mewls softly and returns the kiss eagerly. Asami bites his little pink tongue, huffing a low chuckle when Aki makes a protesting sound. He backs up, and Aki looks up at him, pouting. He gives him a little shove so the boy surges forward and uses Haru’s body to keep him from doing a face plant.

 

“Here’s what you’re going to do, my good boy,” he growls. “You’re going to hold your reckless little lover, take him in your arms and hold tight, because in a few minutes he’s going to be squirming like a helpless little fishy out of water. You can help me torment him, if you’re feeling naughty. Kiss him, rub your hot little body against him, tell him how good he looks, just don’t let go, Aki-kun, or you’ll be punished. There are places you haven’t felt this whip that would make you scream as you’ve  never screamed before. I don’t believe you want that, pretty pet, although Haru’s going to feel them ALL, but he’s just recklessly thrown his choices out that window over there and every ounce of mercy I might have felt for him followed faithfully behind it.”

 

“Ngh,” says Aki. There’s a vague affirmative tone to it, Asami’s pretty sure. At least he throws his arms around Haru’s neck, holds tight, and plants his mouth over Haru’s, moaning hungrily. Asami laughs low and mean. Haru moans back, into Aki’s mouth, and returns the kiss eagerly. His hungry little groan ramps up into a shriek when the whip slashes across his heretofore mostly ignored backside. A dark weal rises up in its wake almost immediately. It is gorgeous, and so is the sound Haru makes. Asami pulls the whip back further than before and puts his considerable muscle into the strokes, grunting softly with the effort. Haru writhes against Aki and gives voice to the ferocious burn of it. The hunter’s in no hurry. His quarry isn’t going anywhere. He lets the boy feel every stroke, the white-hot flare of initial impact, then the rising burn of pain as the flesh swells into a slender welt, then the low throb that beats under the skin with the race of Haru’s pulse. Then, finally, another stroke of the whip, from the other side this time, a matching welt on the other cheek. Oh, this boy. Asami can nearly taste Haru’s unique flavor on his tongue. His cock throbs in his pants with an insistent ache, pushing to take and claim what’s his. But not yet. It’s not time yet. Slowly and viciously, he rains whip strokes from the crest of Haru’s rounded backside down to the crease where cheek meets thigh and then further, down the backs of his legs. The lash of the whip seems to curl sinuously, almost caressingly, around Haru’s thighs, but the marks it leaves in its wake are anything but tender. Haru struggles against Aki’s hold, not because he’s really trying to escape, but because he simply can’t help it. 

 

“What’s the matter, little boy?” rumbles Asami’s voice teasingly. Haru shudders.

 

“Huh...Hurtsss,” he whispers.

 

“Mm,” agrees Asami, fingers drifting across stinging welts, pinching and rolling them between his fingers to watch Haru squirm some more. “Do you want  me to stop?” He whispers these words close to the delicate skin of Haru’s throat, drinking in the way his flesh ripples with goosebumps as Asami’s hot breath gusts over it.

 

“No,” moans Haru, bucking against Aki. “More!”

 

Oh, the beast inside likes that. Likes it a LOT. Akihito whimpers when Haru writhes against him, their erections rubbing together, slick with want and red with aching need. Asami thinks it’s gorgeous that they’re suffering, feels not a single pang of sympathy. They can wait until he’s ready, because he’s altogether certain that until they are truly past the point of desperate and into mindless need, they’re not going to be ready for him. At all. 

 

“Dirty little boy,” he growls. He shoves his thigh between Haru’s knees and forces them to spread wide, wider still, until his thighs tremble with strain. He gives a light shove between the boy’s shoulder blades, the palm of his hand in the center of the raw, red welts of his mark. Haru sags forwards, and Aki supports him, his cruelly whipped little round ass thrust out, legs splayed obscenely. 

 

Asami’s hum of appreciation rumbles low in his chest. It’s not a very human sound. He adjusts his grip on the single tail’s shot-loaded handle and it dances in to lick cruelly at new territory, the cracker snapping high into the fork between Haru’s legs, narrowly missing his testicles. Revelling in the sounds torn from Haru’s throat, he sends it darting between round, quivering cheeks to sting and hurt the untouched flesh there, even nipping cruelly at the sweet tiny pucker of his hole, making him jerk and shudder and howl.

 

“Does it sting, poor baby?” he hisses in mock sympathy. “Think how much more it will hurt when I ram my cock into you, fuck you without mercy. I’m going to drill you open while you scream, Haru. And do you know what, you perfect, gorgeous little creature? You’re going to come so hard you’ll think you’re going to pass out. Do you want me to stop yet?”

 

“N-no...no…” Oh, it hurts. The pain is incandescent. Haru’s backside is in flames, his thighs raw and quivering, and the pleasure that he feels is one of taking this scorching pain from the hand of his Master, from craving it more deeply than he can put words to. Physical pleasure is submerged, but not extinguished, smoldering in the agony of the ruthless lashes.

But Aki is crying for him, anguished little sobs in his ear while Asami rips raw, full-throated cries from his lips, shoring up his endurance, his surrender to Asami’s unleashed beast. Fierce love surges up in his chest, and he moans and writhes between both of them, eyes pricking with hot tears that he fights not to let fall. Not yet. Not until he’s shattered at his Master’s feet. “Please don’t stop,” he whispers hoarsely. “Oh, please.”

 

Aki can’t help but sob a little. It’s just so wrenching listening to the pain in Haru’s voice, to feel his body jerk when the whip strikes. Aki wants to beg him to stop, to tell him he has nothing to prove, to scream at Asami to leave Haru alone. He doesn’t, because he understands it’s only his own sensibilities that are suffering, and that Haru wants this very much. Hell, he can feel how aroused he is, his cock hard and straining, weeping precome as he writhes against Aki. 

 

But that’s not the only reason he cries. Gods, Asami is so beautiful. Terrifying and primal, the trappings of civilization peeled away. Aki has never wanted anything as badly as he wants to come right now, and he can’t, even if rocking against Haru would be enough to let him, because the fire in Asami’s eyes warns him it would be a bad idea, and he has no idea how much longer he’s going to have to wait but he’s so hard he hurts. 

 

Asami tosses black hair out of his eyes when he throws his head back and laughs at Haru, normally a sound both boys find surprising and delightful, because it is relatively rare. Asami’s more common laugh is that sardonic chuckle, so when he laughs out loud it’s hard not to smile in return. Except this laugh is a little unhinged, a little crazed, and more than a little scary. 

 

Asami takes a step back and carefully detaches the nylon cracker from the business end of his whip. He no longer has any interest in delicacy. This one’s looking pretty frayed by now anyway, so he’ll replace it with a new one. Just not any time very soon. 

 

The whip’s song is different without the cracker on the end. It’s impossible to achieve the sharp, gunshot report in the air without it. Its crack is thicker, heavier. More ominous. He stands behind Haru, leaning in to lick a stripe up the line of his spine framed between his shoulders, tasting salt and the indefinable something that is how Haru smells and tastes to him. Beautiful. He stops with his face pressed into Haru’s hair, damp with sweat, and inhales. Pain and sex are heady spices. Haru whines softly and shivers.

 

“Mine,” breathes  Asami, and steps back, shaking out the whip. A more vicious tool now, when it slashes across Haru’s ass, the resulting welt is thicker. There’s bruising at its heart, and with the second lash, what Asami has promised his brave little pain slut. A tiny dot of crimson at the terminus of the stroke. 

 

His need to claim Haru’s body, to wrench screams from him of a different sort, is driving Asami harder and harder. The beast’s desire to conquer approaches sated, and so its desire to mate ramps higher and higher. His pretty pet fights not because he wishes to hold out against Asami’s conquest, to win, but because he is, deep inside where he’s been ashamed for anyone to see for so terribly long, as depraved a creature as Asami himself and he just doesn’t want it to be over too soon. That, and...Haru understands that the side of his Master he’s seeing tonight is the part of him that Asami keeps chained and starving, as deeply buried as possible. That he sees this, that the desire of Haru’s heart is to give his Master the gift of welcoming all his complicated parts, is still too stunning for Asami to examine it too closely. The rise and fall of the whip, the whistle of leather cutting through the air, the thick sound of it striking flesh, and the sounds Haru make are almost hypnotic...except that Asami’s hunger is changing. Fast.

 

“Who am I, little boy?” he growls after a particularly vicious stroke. Haru hasn’t used his title since they started this dance, because he can’t yield to Asami and still retain his ability to withstand the onslaught. Haru cries out, giving voice to his pain and Asami reaches out with his left hand, grasping the boy by the throat and forcing his head back while his right hand brings the whip down across Haru’s perfect little round ass again. “I said,” he hisses through his teeth, right into Haru’s ear, “Who. Am. I?”

 

“M-Master,” Haru chokes out in a strangled wail. “Master!” His chest hitches and his sobs thicken and spill over into a fury of tears, garbling his voice and blurring his sight. “Master.”

 

He hangs in the chains, collapsed against Aki’s straining form, staring blindly up at his Master’s face, every defence finally stripped away. His slender limbs tremble violently as he cries convulsively, shudders wracking his ravaged body from head to toe.

 

He doesn’t fight or struggle, not the hand at his throat or the pain that carves into his already raw and burning skin. But he offers up his suffering and his surrender in every way he can, a primal submission that seeks to appease the savage appetites driving the man who possesses him so utterly.

 

“That’s right, little slave,” purrs Asami, his voice gone raw and gutteral with the desires riding him. “I am your Master. You chose this, little boy, chose me, and may the gods help you, because I am never going to let you go. I’m going to have you now, Haru. While you’re crying for me.” His fingers gentle on his beautiful boy’s pale throat, where they’ve been pressing. He doesn’t think there’ll be bruises. He nudges Aki back a little and kisses Haru, if what he does can be called a kiss. He ravages the boy’s pliant mouth, forces his tongue inside, bites at Haru’s lips and tongue, takes his very breath with a kiss as brutal as it is hungry. His heart siezes in his chest at the thought of what he’s doing, what he plans to do, and yet he doesn’t think he can stop. He presses his forehead to Haru’s, panting heavily.

 

“Ah Haru,” he whispers. “Forgive me. What I want to do to you...it won’t be kind, sweet boy. And yet I want to do it all the same. Will you have me, Haru-kun, beast that I am tonight? You’ll say no if you’ve any sense of self-preservation at all.” He pauses and kisses Haru again, only a little softer, and tastes the blood his teeth drew with the first kiss. He hums softly. “Mm. I’m counting on you not having any more now than you did the day you said….anything I want…”

 

Stunningly, Haru smiles through his tears, lips trembling as he shapes his words that come out raggedly. “I’m yours...y-you claimed me...just like the...the story.” Fresh sobs tear his breath, but his eyes shine so brightly. “My beast. My Master.  Anything. ”

 

“Perfect,” breathes Asami, thumbing open the top button of his jeans. He sees both their eyes on him, pupils blown wide with desire. He catches Aki’s eyes and then Haru’s as he slowly pulls the zipper down. He laughs at them, enraptured by what he reveals as he shucks them down and off. He steps back and just looks at them for a minute, leaning against the nearest wall, one hand behind this head, while the other reaches lazily down and strokes the heavy weight of his cock. They both make tiny, inarticulate sounds. He shoves off the wall and reaches into a recessed cabinet, for the small jar he keeps there. He unscrews it slowly as he strolls back over to them, eyes pinned to Haru’s face. He loves this part, no matter how much or how little he is in control of himself, the atavistic response of his boy to the scent of it, his pupils dilating further, hips arching helplessly against Akihito, little helpless noises from his mouth. Asami has just about enough presence of mind to smear some of it on his cock, shuddering a little at the feel of it, velvety silk on heated flesh.

 

He climbs onto the platform behind Haru, his eyes avid as they drink in the sight of all that flawless skin marred by the evidence of his conquest.  This is mine,  he exults silently. Fingers slide into Haru’s black hair, tugging his head back to rest on Asami’s shoulder. Breath harsh in his lungs and burning throat, Asami guides his cock between Haru’s raw, throbbing cheeks and swallows an inhuman snarl when he finds the tender pucker of his tiny hole. Here’s where he so often whispers some terribly arousing threat or taunt or warning into Haru’s ear, but he hasn’t even the patience for that. Haru gasps, and on the crest of that sudden inhale, the beast riding Asami snaps his hips forward and breaches the boy’s tight warmth with a cruel stab of his thick cock. Growling, he grasps Haru’s right hip, digging his fingers in deeply, and jabs and forces and fucks his erection all the way inside the boy’s reluctantly yielding body until he’s seated all the way inside, with Haru shrieking and his rudely violated hole clenching helplessly around the burning invasion. 

 

He doesn’t give Haru time to adjust, is too far gone to pause and allow his boy’s body to relax for him. Oh, he’s kept the savagery so carefully leashed and muzzled, and how his black heart swells with the reality of not having to do that tonight. He drags his cock almost all the way out and slams it back in, fucking Haru deeply from the outset. If he really wants all of Asami, if that’s not a lie told in ignorance, if he can truly handle everything Asami has to give...oh. Oh, he’s never risked it. He’s known what the result would be. Not that he hasn’t used that once or twice to convince a particularly insistent little gold digger that he’s not worth the cost. But he’s believed, KNOWN for so long that he’s NOT. That the cost of accepting this, his darkness, his bestial side, the raw truth of how sadistic he really can be...he’s never thought himself worth that cost. Haru seems to imagine that he is, imagines he can take this, accept it, and still...still love a fucking monster. The sheer absurdity of the thought almost stops him. Almost drags him back from the abyss and gentles the driving thrusts and softens his grip, but the sheer, mindless JOY of letting this out, and Haru’s whispered promise that he will give Asami truth, stops him. He says he wants it all, Asami thinks recklessly, and though the part of him that wonders if he’ll lose both these bright shiny, priceless human beings as a result of this night quails at the thought, he keeps going, giving Haru everything. 

 

The piercing, unforgiving pain hollows Haru out. Each cruel thrust driving all higher-level thought out of his consciousness until nothing but the pain remains and the instinctive desire to yield, to bear it, let the torment rage through him like a storm until it runs it course. His slender body hangs in the chains, his limbs incapable of support. If not for Aki, he senses he might  not be able to endure it. His skin is drenched in cold sweat, the initial shock of his Master’s taking sending the blood rushing from his face.

 

He feels now as if he’s hovering somewhere above his body, watching everything once removed from his senses. And it’s with something like wonder that he listens to the sounds ripped from him. Is that really him making those kinds of noises, wild and anguished and so very needy despite it all? The profound truth slams into him. He  can endure this, will take even so much more if that is what his Master desires.

 

A wanton kind of joy fills him. He  wishes so very deeply to give this to his Master, to embrace this shattering, intimate violence, offering up his utter submission, his trust and desire.

 

He watches Aki peer at him with almost frightened eyes, hears his frantic words of comfort of encouragement, and feels the soft, convulsive petting of his hair when Aki clings to him tightly and gasps on his shoulder as their bodies trap their aching cocks together.

 

And then, abruptly, he crashes back into himself, Asami’s harsh pants in his ear, the musky scent of lubricant and sweat and sex, and the driving burn and stretch of his Master’s cock plunging as deeply as possible into his tight little hole. The vivid, consuming reality of it wrings a wail from him so intense, his throat feels scraped raw as his backside. Aki’s arms tighten, and he sobs Haru’s name.

 

“Unhh...ungh…” Haru’s mind and mouth struggles to form real words around the pain and tears and his overloaded senses and thoughts . “A...ki…M-m-ma...mast...er…” His lips and chin quiver violently as he sobs and stutters. “...l-love...l-love y-you…”

 

“Haru,” cries Akihito, his hands fluttering across Haru’s sweaty face, cheekbones, eyelids, lips...his hair and down his neck and shoulders, touching him gently and carefully as though he were something fragile despite Asami’s ravaging of his body. “Oh...oh, I love you too!” He kisses Haru’s trembling lips fervently, swallowing his wails and cries, whining worriedly and trying to touch him everywhere at once, to offer comfort through what sanctuary his slender arms can give. Part of him is scandalized by what’s going on, what Asami is doing to Haru. Should he be angry? Try to put a stop to it? But in his gut he knows the answer is no. His own body smarts and stings and throbs from the whip, and the ache of need in his balls and his guts is insistent, and he understands that something important is happening between Haru and Asami right now, something he doesn’t quite understand but finds that he can accept. His eyes slide past Haru’s face to look into Asami’s eyes as he fucks Haru with a mindless ferocity Aki’s never seen before. Asami snarls something that sounds like, “ Mine ,” through his teeth, as he grinds them together hard enough that the tendons stand out on the side of his neck. Gods, thinks Aki, he is so fucking beautiful. Asami doesn’t even really look sane. He’s almost like some wild Infernal creature from some wildly sensual fantasy artwork. Aki thinks about his pictures of Haru with his little demon boy costume on and right now it’s so easy to see Asami with sharp, shining horns, gleaming black and green and purple with poison, his eyes black as pitch without sclera or else glowing a deep crimson, with claws and needle sharp teeth and wide, sweeping, powerful wings like a dragon’s. He’s gorgeous in a scary, uncontrolled, completely primal way, and Aki can scarcely breathe as he meets his lover’s lust-filled gaze. 

 

Asami smiles slowly at him, his lips curling out at the edges until Aki sees a gleam of teeth, then he grasps Haru’s hips and abruptly yanks him backwards out of Aki’s arms. Both boys cry out in dismay.

 

“No,” says Asami in a silky, venomous purr, “Oh no, don’t do anything to make me want you to keep  making tasty little sounds like that, hush now, both of you.” With that he reaches up and unbuckles Haru’s wrists. Then he pushes his head down until he’s on hands and knees, his bottom thrust up high to take the cruel fucking that doesn’t slow. Amber eyes trail down Aki’s body to where his quivering erection juts out the front of his body, dripping precome onto the platform between his spread knees, the head dark red with desire. Asami’s gaze is almost like a caress, and Aki makes a small, muffled sound between his lips.

 

“Feed our beloved your cock, pretty pet,” he rumbles softly. “Let him be filled by us both, one at each end, as is his fond desire. Love his sweet mouth tenderly if that is your wish, or make him gag on your cock, just give it to him, take him, with me.”

 

Aki gasps at Asami’s words. He can only remember one or two times this dangerous man has ever said anything so eloquent and honest and it brings tears to his eyes. He looks down at Haru and his thumb presses softly on the slack bottom lip, then inside, opening Haru’s mouth and arching his hips forward. His lips mouth Asami’s strangely lovely choice of words, wondering how, in the face of the man’s brutal claiming of Haru’s overwrought body, it does not seem a contradiction. But it doesn’t.

 

“Beloved.”

 

Haru’s eyes darken, and in that moment, he looks at Akihito almost the same way he does Asami, his gaze shining not only with devotion and desire, but with a hint of worship that can’t be denied. It’s too good...too much, all of it--Asami, Aki, the things that have been said and done that night. Haru’s heart throbs and races, his insides twisting from these new words that hit him like a sucker punch.

 

Our beloved.  Haru moans with abandon, and the warm, silky sheath of his mouth hollows around Akihito’s cock. A rough thrust from behind sends Haru surging forward until Aki’s cock hits the back of his throat. He chokes a little, but he sucks hard and eagerly when Akihito tries to pull back with a look of chagrin. His eyes beg Akihito to let him take this too.

 

His fond desire. Haru could almost laugh if he wasn’t so desperate with want and need and love and pain. He could happily now die right in this perfect moment, and the way his Master keeps fucking into him with the same savage force, he may well.

 

He hurts and aches and groans as he’s fucked from both sides, as his lovers take and give, and he proves his willingness to be so assaulted by the strength and frequency of his heady, shameless moans. His pleasure grows and coils deep as he’s tossed between them, until his limbs tremble and strain with the effort to hold himself up.

 

Oh gods. Akihito bites back helpless moans as Haru sucks earnestly on his cock. It’s not the most skilled blowjob he’s ever given, especially since he learned how to deepthroat. He’s too overwhelmed to relax enough to do it without gagging right now, nearly mindless with what Asami has done...and is doing to him. Aki watches the tears roll down Haru’s face, watches his cock and Haru’s reddened lips stretched around it, then lifts his head and watches Asami fucking into Haru as though he’ll fuck his way out the other side and it is nearly his undoing. His feral beauty is both terrifying and compelling. His wicked tiger eyes gleam with unholy glee as he ruthlessly wrecks Haru, and the look he shares with Akihito is so heated it causes Aki’s whole body to flush with heat.

 

“Asami,” he whispers. Asami hums, a soft, throbbing growl that reminds Aki even more forcefully of the wild animal his eyes so often bring to mind.

 

The wonder in his Akihito’s eyes is compelling, and he finds himself heartily approving when concern for Haru’s well-being is overwhelmed by desire and Aki’s hips roll as he fucks Haru’s mouth, hands tangled in his hair, staring raptly into Asami’s face. He lets go of Haru’s left hip, his hand flashing out to fist in Aki’s hair and haul him forwards, leaning in to capture his parted lips in a hungry, brutal kiss. Akihito whines into his mouth and they both groan a little as their clashing teeth draw blood. Asami licks it from Aki’s lip with an approving sound and is both surprised and approving when Akihito growls softly and returns the gesture.

 

He doesn’t know how long it’s been going on. He’s lost in it, in possessing Haru more completely than he ever has, in loosing his hands completely from the iron self control he usually keeps on a very tight leash, and in seeing Haru not only accept it but welcome it. In the intimate sharing of it with Akihito, something he’s never done before, something the beast riding him would never be able to do with another Dominant. But the bond they share doesn’t threaten his control of Haru at all, and so he laughs a little wildly and kisses Aki some more, fucking into Haru’s trembling body harder than ever.

 

He becomes aware that its only the points at which they anchor his body that are keeping Haru from collapsing, his body wracked with shudders. Then his cock strokes over the shaking boy’s prostate and Haru shrieks around Aki’s cock. Akihito gasps and cries out a little wildly at the way the sound vibrates up his shaft and into his balls and pulls back from their kiss, eyes wide and frantic.

 

“Ah-Ah-Asami,” he pants, “I can’t…”

 

Asami grins unrepentantly and slows his relentless assault, angling his hips and tilting Haru’s ravaged backside up a little more, angling his pelvis down and lining up each deep, driving thrust with that small knot of exquisitely sensitive nerves inside the boy that will shove him past the point of no return. Haru is making urgent, helpless sounds as Asami forces him to come apart for him, and Aki’s eyes roll back in his head at the resulting vibration on his thrusting cock down Haru’s throat. Asami feels his own balls draw tight in response to the sight of them, and to the way Haru’s ravaged little hole clenches and flutters around his cock. Aki cries out as his control falters and then falls apart, spilling down Haru’s throat, his hands clenching in Haru’s hair. Asami knows his own moment is imminent and that in giving himself over to his baser self, he’s given up much of his hard-earned self control. Fortunately, the change in pace and angle looks like it’s enough to bring Haru with him. He gasps a little, panting for air of which there suddenly seems to be not nearly enough, and his fingers dig bruises into Haru’s titled hips and thoroughly whipped backside.

 

“Haru,” he hisses breathlessly through his teeth. “ Now.”

 

Haru comes with an intensity that makes his vision tunnel. His nostrils flare again and again as he tries to breath with Akihito’s cock down his throat, and the strained muscles in his thighs vibrate like plucked strings. When Akihito’s softening shaft finally slips out of his mouth, it pulls a throaty, exhausted moan with it. Haru collapses, burying his face in his arms, his raw, throbbing bottom held aloft only by Asami’s powerful grip. 

 

The hard clench of Haru’s brutalized little hole on his aching cock is all it takes. Asami slams his hips forward, burying himself so deep inside his boy’s body he thinks Haru may be able to taste it, his climax torn from his body with breathtaking sensation. He doesn’t give in to the pleasure so much as it simply takes him and his groan as it shakes him to his core is inhuman. He doesn’t think he’s ever come so hard in his life, at least not since he was a boy, and new to such pleasure. Asami keeps his seat in the saddle with little effort, guiding and controlling the actions of his body, and has done so for a very long time. He’s been the rider, not the ridden. Until tonight. 

 

When his body’s shudders cease, he stays where he is, knees and thighs and spine locked in place, his hands still holding Haru’s hips in place so tightly they feel almost welded to the boy’s flesh. He knows he’d collapse like a felled oak if he let himself relax, and doesn’t relish the thought of crushing Haru. His head bowed, he pants in great, gasping breaths, trying to find himself again. It takes a while, but gradually he starts to feel human again, and is able to carefully withdraw from Haru’s trembling body, wringing a small, helpless cry from his boy. He winces  a little when he gets a good look at the welts covering Haru’s body, at the bruises already forming, the places where he allowed the whip to open Haru’s soft skin, blood drying black in a few tiny spots. There’s a tiny smear of damning crimson on his cock too. His jaw set, he steps off the platform and gently takes Haru into his arms as the boy continues to tremble. Aki follows them, hovering anxiously and just barely managing to not get in the way. He carries Haru to the bedroom and lays him down on his tummy as tenderly as he can. Haru makes a forlorn sound when Asami sets him down and lets go. He lifts his head a little and looks up anxiously.

 

“Don’t leave me, Master,” he pleads in a voice gone hoarse and raw with his pain. 

 

“Akihito,” says Asami softly, “lie down next to him and hold him, please. I’m going to  get the first aid kit.”

 

Haru starts to cry again as Aki obeys Asami, exhausted soft sobs that stab accusingly into Asami’s chest more deeply than any blade could reach, for against them, he has no defense. He hurries to the bathroom and returns with the first aid kit as quickly as he can.

 

“No...no...don’t leave me, please...Master please come back.” Haru is whimpering inconsolably against Akihito’s chest, although Aki is doing his best to console him. 

 

Asami slides onto the bed and nods his thanks to Aki, then retrieves his property with gentle hands. Haru gives a glad little cry and turns to burrow into Asami’s embrace, his tears dampening Asami’s skin.

 

“Shh,” he says softly, his voice even and calm and soothing. “That’s my good boy. Hush now, I’m not going to leave you. You’re stuck with me. Hush now, it’s all right” He lifts his head and smiles at Aki. “Are you all right?” he asks softly. Aki nods.

 

“Yeah...I’m good.I mean, that was like...seriously intense, but you were...well now I know how much you’re holding back...so I KNOW you were really careful with me. I...I liked it. You were right about the whip. I feel...kind of amazing.”

 

“I’m glad. Thank you for your trust, Akihito. Now if I can ask for your help in caring for our boy here?”

 

“Sure! I’ll go get juice. What kind do you want, Haru? Apple or orange?”

 

“Aphmgh,” says Haru indistinctly, words obscured by his crying and the fact that his face is rather squashed against Asami’s chest.

 

“Haruki….I…” Asami stumbles over his words a bit, which is something that NEVER happens. He sighs, and hopes Haru doesn’t come to his senses and decide Asami is too dangerous to be with. Regret renders him nearly tongue-tied. “I’m sorry. I haven’t lost control in...Ever.” Carefully, he begins to tend Haru’s scrapes and tiny cuts, once Haru has stopped clinging to him too fiercely for him to get to any of it. He pauses and bows his head with a sigh. “Forgive me.”

 

“No,” Haru cries with raspy fervor, verging a little on hysteria. His emotions  and body are cresting the edge of utterly exhausted, but he manages to leverage himself up on his elbows, wincing as he peers up at Asami through a sweaty fall of hair. “Don’t say that, Master. I wanted it. All of it. It was  exactly what I wanted. You wanted it to, didn’t you? To lose control?” He takes a sobbing breath, his worried eyes searching Asami’s. “Please don’t be sorry. I...I loved it.” His lips tremble on a small but genuine smile that belie the tears that keep falling out of sheer physical and mental overload.

 

“Did I want it too?” muses Asami, disinfecting Haru’s abrasions as carefully as possible and pausing to blow softly when Haru hisses at the sting. “I suppose the bottom line is yes. I don’t lose control often, Haru-kun. And never before to that extent. Some might say it’s not fair that a Dominant must always be so in control of himself and the scene to make sure it stays safe...that he may never know the joy of simply letting go, of feeling everything to the deepest possible level he desires.”

 

“That  doesn’t sound fair,” Haru whispers, but he lays his face in arms to conceal the emotion that must show on his face. He wants to reassure Asami that he doesn’t regret anything they did. It had felt profoundly amazing that Asami-sama would let that part of him free for him. But Haru can’t help the anxiety that makes his insides twist. Maybe he’d pushed for too much, like he always ended up doing. Even though Asami sort of said he wanted it, he didn’t sound too sure.

 

Before he can figure out how else to respond, Aki returns and sits gingerly on the bed next to him. “Here, Haru. Can you sit up a little and take a drink?”

 

He shakes his head, not trusting himself to look normal yet. “Thank you,” he says, his voice muffled by the pillow, “in a minute maybe. I’m...I’m not too thirsty.”

 

He almost starts crying again when Aki’s hand strokes through his hair, and Haru bites his lip hard, determined not to be reduced to a needy mess again in front of them.

 

Asami shakes his head almost imperceptibly at Aki when he opens his mouth to argue with Haru about the juice. His hands move to another of the marks left by his whip and he continues. Probably he should have been a little less reticent in his answer. Haru is very good at self-recrimination, and will undoubtedly be berating himself for not responding how he should have, or for being too loud or some other such absurdity.

 

“I hesitated when I answered you because the truth is that I’m concerned that I liked it too much. It may not be entirely fair that there are often times a Master must remain in control when he’d like to let go a little more, but that sacrifice is a choice we make when we accept responsibility for our subs, and it is, at least to me, very worth that sacrifice. I am sometimes a violent man, Haru. More so than you probably know. I have some very primitive urges. I loved it, Haru. Making you scream. That you could accept it...that it was arousing to you even through the most painful parts...that’s...well, it’s nothing short of incredible. Knowing that I  can  let my baser urges out with you is so damned appealing. I’m used to taking what i want, you see. This knowledge...that you can take it, that you want to give me this gift...I’m concerned it’s TOO appealing. Haru...what we did tonight was fantastic. Both of you made me very proud at the Black Rose. Mistress Liliana liked you both very much, and she is an extremely difficult person to impress. I was already half-drunk on the power of what happened at the club…”

 

He shakes his head a little. Haru hasn’t moved. He’s very still, listening intently. Asami tries to choose his words carefully. “My hesitance is because I could quickly grow addicted to how you made me feel tonight. The thing about addiction is that you don’t control it. It controls you. I hurt you tonight. I liked doing it. I didn’t cause you lasting damage, but I did cause temporary harm. You’re bleeding a little in several places. A little blood during sex isn’t the end of the world, but I pride myself on being able to make you both ready for me so that my size doesn’t tear you. I don’t think these marks will scar, but I could give you ones that would all too easily. I can’t let this side of me out of the bag very often at all. It’s irresponsible and potentially dangerous. And I know that you’d accept it gladly, even ask me to do it again, knowing how much I liked it. For a while. Eventually I’d hurt you too much, push you too far...perhaps actually damage you.”

 

He smooths antibiotic cream on the last tiny cut and runs his fingertips up and down Haru’s spine. His lips quirk when it makes Haru squirm a little and muffle a small sound of pleasure. “So I hesitated to let you know how perfect it was for me, because I don’t want you to ask for it again. I’ll decide if and when it happens, because I don’t regret the necessity of self-control. We would not be here, the three of us together, if I didn’t have my less humane desires under control. It matters to me that I not damage either of you. It’s part of my pledge to you, when you put your trust in me. I’m not saying it will never happen again. It will, I promise you. But I can’t let it happen very often. It’s part of the promise I make to you that I’ll take care of you and keep you safe. The promise that this implies,” he finishes softly, his fingertips brushing the smooth, oiled surface of the strip of leather around Haru’s neck. “Do you...would you like to keep it, Haru-kun? It’s a little bulky, not easy to conceal. But you’ve more than earned it. It’s only a training collar, but it’s still a pledge. Mine to you, to teach you, to lead you, to care for you. Yours to me, to listen and learn, do your best. If you’d like it. Until you’re ready for a permanent one.”

 

Haru rolls over quickly and sits up, ignoring the twinges of his various aches and pains. His brimming eyes shine as he stares wordlessly at Asami and nods slowly, as if he can hardly credit what he’s hearing. “I can really keep it?” he asks with soft, eager hope.

 

“Duh,” Aki says with a huff of laughter. “Like anyone would be able to pry it off of you if we tried. It’d be as mean as taking candy away from a little kid.”

 

Haru flushes, but a sheepish smile blooms on his face, and he finally accepts the juice that Aki presses into his hands. He takes a small sip, and then drinks deeply as the thirst hits, draining the glass in one go.

 

“Thanks, Aki.” Haru grins, taking in Aki’s red-rimmed eyes and nose. He seems fairly recovered from his own ordeal, and Haru wants to hear all about what he really thought of the whip and the night at the club, and talk everything over, preferably while cuddled up between the sheets. But first…

 

Haru braves a look up at Asami, feeling oddly shy as he meets the man’s gaze. His fingers ghost along the leather of the collar, and he pours all his sincerity into his words. “Thank you, Master.”

  
  


He stands over them in the quiet dark. They’ve been asleep for a couple of hours now, having chattered in hushed voices for all of about ten minutes about what had happened tonight, until they began to blink owlishly and forget to finish their sentences, adrenaline and endorphins which had kept them awake and on edge draining away to leave them exhausted. They lie together like one messy entity made of coltish arms and legs, sharing one pillow, the bright and the dark of their hair mingling together, breathing deeply and evenly and in perfect tandem. 

 

The part of him he keeps inside...the wildness, the part which would reject his five-thousand dollar suits and leap naked into the gladiatorial arena with a crazed, exultant laugh to plunge sword or spear or pilum into human flesh with something like glee, the beast within...it is placated. More than placated, it is sated. And yet it gazes down at them through his hooded amber eyes and drinks in the sight of them. Its eyes roam avidly over the curves and bumps of their slender bodies, remembering what it had felt like to take the lash to their bodies and make them scream, make them dance. He closes his eyes and wills it away, refusing to look at them this way, rejecting the thought of them as prey, and it surprises him as much as anything ever has in all his life when the beast...the madness and the hunger buried in his soul which had loved emptying a full magazine from his Sig into the body of Arbatov’s man on Feilong’s ship...the beast pads tamely away, back into the darkness where he keeps it most of the time, its thoughts leaving him breathless.

 

“Mine,” it thinks. “They are mine too, and we will keep them safe.”

 


	17. Good Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A casual friend of Haru's at Tokyo University sees more than he should, and, in his ignorance causes poor Haru a huge amount of distress! Can Asami and Akihito help smooth things over before Haru's personal life becomes alarmingly public?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’d probably never have considered writing this story if it weren’t for our follower (and now, we hope, our friend) Cdreation who proposed it to us. Initially, it was her desire to remain anonymous as the third writer of this story, but we don’t think she’s got anything to hide from! Our work shares with you the ins and outs, ups and downs of making a triad relationship float, of how healthy BDSM can and ideally should work, and hopefully makes you think as well as tickling your fancy a bit. We aim to entertain and educate at the same time, as well as just have a good time and write what we want to write for our own pleasure. We know the stories aren’t canon compliant, though we hope we’ve captured much of the basic flavor of Asami and Akihito’s personalities and complemented them with the addition of Ito Haruki, who we’re gratified you seem to love as much as we do. But our friend pointed out that there’s another side. That there are sometimes nosy folk who think they know better than we do and who, though well-meaning, can really cause a lot of trouble for those of us choosing to live an alternative lifestyle in their ignorance. She should know. Someone called the police on her partner, and she was forced to move into a women’s shelter until she could manage to sort out the mess made by a person with good intentions who made the assumption that she was being abused. I can’t even imagine how horrifically mortifying and difficult it was for her to go through that! She proposed that it might help other people consider what to do if faced with a similar situation or might help other people ignorant of the desires of fellow kinksters if poor Haru had to deal with just such a person. She’s asked that no one hate her, because she certainly does a VERY good job of writing as our ignorant do-gooder, Kaito, who completely jumps to the wrong conclusion about why Haru gets out of the big, sleek limo looking like he’s been crying his heart out, and why his body is covered with marks from an obvious beating. Poor Haru is in a panic, and things look really bad for quite a while. But we’re glad she did a good job, because people of kink have to face ignorance, self-righteous judgment, and hate on a regular basis. Be assured that she’s merely well-acquainted with those attitudes, she doesn’t ACTUALLY share them! We’re thankful she came to us with the idea, because we think the unexpected struggle our boys suddenly have to face in putting out the fires of righteous indignation is informative and thought-provoking, and we’re grateful she had the courage to share her story with us. This story is dedicated to Cdreation. Thank you so much for the opportunity to work and share with you!

  
  
  


It’s an accident.  Someone had spilled water on the floor, and in typical student fashion, decided to deal with it later.  Kaito doesn’t mean to slip, and he certainly doesn’t mean to drop his paint tray onto his colleague's drafting table, completely ruining the drawing Haru is working on.  After apologizing to him for nearly a whole minute, Haru puts a hand on his arm and smiles telling him not to worry about it, it’s only paper, and that any design can be redrawn.  Unfortunately, the project he has so thoroughly ruined is due tomorrow.  Haru assures Kaito he will be fine, that the professor will give him an extension due to the circumstances, but Kaito insists that he needs to help make it right, and pushes Haru into working through the night with him to fix it.  Haru does the pencil lines, and Kaito follows behind with the ink.  They finish around dawn.  Kaito has never seen someone so nervous about pulling an all-nighter, or check their phone as much as Haru does.  Feeling bad about keeping Haru from what he assumes is his girlfriend, he buys him breakfast once they finish.  Haru spends the entire meal fiddling with the bracelet around his wrist, and tugging at the collar of his shirt.

 

They turn in their drafts later that day, and Kaito invites Haru out for drinks to celebrate the avoided disaster.  It’s only Wednesday, but Kaito doesn't care.  When Haru turns him down, Kaito is surprised by the anxious tone in his voice.  He seems pale and withdrawn, as though he might start crying at any moment.  Kaito really hopes it’s just the stress of having to recreate his project from scratch and the lack of sleep.  A black limo pulls up to the curb before Kaito can verify his theory however, and Haru says a hurried goodbye before nearly running to the strange and out of place car.

 

The next morning Kaito is on his way to class, a bit earlier than normal because it’s a nice day and fresh air never hurt anyone, when he sees the same black limo that had picked up Haru the afternoon before drive up and park at the curb.  Kaito hangs back a bit and watches as Haru slowly gets out of the car.  He nods and smiles, bowing shortly to, presumably, another person inside the vehicle before giving the same treatment to the man mountain that has gotten out of the driver’s seat to open the door.

 

As the limo drives away, Kaito watches as the smile drops from Haru’s face.  His eyes are red and puffy from crying, and as he walks towards the Art Building, Haru limps slightly and hugs his bag in front of him instead of slinging it across his back.  Worry begins to tickle at the back of Kaito’s mind as he watches Haru slowly and laboriously make his way across campus.

 

It is relatively easy for him to watch Haru throughout the day.  They have several of the same classes together since they are both in the same graduate program.  So when Haru sits at his desk or drafting table and winces in pain each time, Kaito notices.  And the little tickle begins to grow.

 

Later that evening, while most of his fellow students are at the cafeteria wolfing down second rate food, Kaito heads to the Physical Education Building’s fitness center to work off some of the anxiety and worry that has been building inside of him since his all-nighter with Haru.  The building is almost completely empty, and he lifts weights, runs on the treadmill, and pushes his muscles on the exercise machines until they nearly gave out.  When his body is screaming at him to rest, he finally calls it a day and heads for the locker rooms.

 

As he turns into the changing area, he sees Haru standing in front of an open locker.  It startles Kaito a bit to see him since Haru doesn’t seem the type to lift weights.  Kaito has seen him at the pool several times or on the track field running laps, but never in the fitness center.  Quietly he watches as Haru, oblivious to his presence, pulls his towel and clothes out of his locker and sets them on the bench.  While he watches his colleague’s careful movements, it occurs to Kaito that Haru’s exercise clothes seem large and baggy on him, as though he has borrowed them from someone larger than himself.  His shirt is loose, nearly drowning Haru’s small frame in the cloth, and the basketball shorts he wears go down past his knees.  Before Kaito can contemplate why a person who dresses as sharply and as clean-cut as Haru does would be wearing clothing that is at least three times too big for him, Haru pulls the large shirt over his head, and Kaito has to stifle a gasp at what he sees.

 

Long, angry red welts criss cross across the small back, painting everything between the shoulders and the base of the ribs with crimson.  But Kaito’s eyes don’t linger on Haru’s back for long.  Haru hisses in pain as he slides his shorts and boxer briefs over his hips and lets them drop to the floor.  It only takes him a moment to bend over and pick up the discarded garments before Haru wraps the towel around his waist and heads to the showers, but it is enough.  Kaito’s heart beats loudly in his ears and his vision goes nearly white with rage as his mind tries to process what he has seen.  The sight of the obvious whip marks on Haru’s back is jarring, but seeing the rest…  Kaito isn’t sure he will ever be able to forget the image.

 

Haru’s behind and the entire length of his thighs, almost to the knee, are lined with dark purply black bruises and red welts even more pronounced than the ones on his back.  Kaito didn’t have time to count, but he is certain there are more than a dozen individual marks, although several of them have been blurred out by the much larger bruises that darken Haru’s pale flesh.  The sound of the shower turning on brings Kaito back to his senses, and he runs out of the locker room, not even bothering to change his clothes.

 

Guilt and anxiety flood his mind as he sprints the entire way back to his apartment.  What had happened to Haru?  What sort of twisted fucker had done that to him?  Was that why Haru had been so anxious about the all-nighter?  Did Haru get beaten because of him?  Kaito throws open his front door, startling his roommate.

 

“Dude, the hell?!  D’ya see a ghost or somethin’?”  Jiro taunts in his distinctive drawl.

 

Kaito ignores his roommate, digging through his dresser for a clean set of clothes.  Haru had looked so anxious, almost scared when he’d seen the limo pull up after class the night before, and then when he’d left the same limo that morning, he’d obviously been crying.  Pieces begin to click into place, and Kaito freezes, shirt halfway over his head as he remembers something.

 

“Hey Jiro?  Didn’t you say there was some rumor going around about Ito Haruki and the black limo that brings him to campus?”  Kaito asks quietly.

 

“Oh yeah!  Word ‘round’s that he’s some rich CEO’s pet whore.  I mean, lotsa folks in the department a’ready thought the kid might be gay, but several months ago this long ass stretch starts pullin’ up, big ass chauffeur and all, and Ito just gets in an out, like it’s no fuckin’ big deal.  An ‘member when th’Art department made that ‘nouncement about scholarships bein’ cut next year fer grads?  An then they told us all never-mind ‘cause they’d received some huge ass anonymous donation that was gonna pay all the scholarships fer like, the next five years?  One of those scholarships’s the one Ito’s got.  I mean come on.  First he starts comin’ to school in a stretch, an then some anon makes sure his tuition’s gonna be all paid till he graduates?  Sounds like Ito’s got it in the bag.”

 

“Maybe, but at what cost?”  Kaito’s voice is a near whisper, but Jiro hears him anyway.

 

“Man, I’d do a helluva lot more ‘en spread my legs fer that kinda luxury.  Itsa sweet gig y’ask me.”

 

The image of Haru’s bruised and tortured backside flashes through Kaito’s mind, and he thinks that if Jiro really knew what price Haru was paying for his ‘luxury’, he would never have said what he did.  Kaito slams his dresser closed and quickly finishes throwing on his clothes.  Now that he knows what’s happening to Haru, he can’t just sit idly by and watch it happen.  A small tingle of fear momentarily paralyzes him as Kaito thinks about what this powerful unknown ‘benefactor’ could probably do to him, has  already done to Haru.  But he pushes it away, resolved to help his suffering colleague no matter what.  He grabs his spare keys and starts towards the door.

 

“Where you splittin’ to?”  Jiro calls after him.  Kaito doesn’t answer as he pulls on a coat and heads outside.

 

Haru’s apartment is less than a mile from his and he gets there in less than twenty minutes.  There’s light coming from behind the closed blinds of the window, and Kaito stops in front of the door.  He steels himself with several deep breaths of the chilly night air, and knocks.

 

***

 

Haru heaves a relieved sigh when he gets back to his apartment. Even though it’s still fairly early in the evening, he takes his futon out of the closet and rolls it out onto the floor.  It feels like Heaven to stretch out on his stomach on the fluffy surface. He buries his face in his pillow and let’s the tension slowly drain out of his neck and shoulders.

 

His deep yawn is muffled against the soft fabric, but it shows just how exhausted he is. Pulling an all nighter the day before, and then getting less sleep than he probably should have last night too was taking it’s toll, not that he’s complaining. The first part hadn’t been too fun. Redoing all his hard work wasn’t even close to how he had been intending to spend his time.

 

Poor Kaito. He had been so upset. It was really nice of him to help out, even if Haru could hardly focus on recreating his draft. He’d been too disappointed that his evening with Asami-sama was curtailed. It wasn’t often that Asami had a free evening during the week, and with Aki on a short assignment outside of Tokyo, he’d chosen to spend it with Haru.

 

Haru had worked as fast as he could, and kept checking his watch compulsively, and still he didn’t finish until dawn. At that point, he’d gotten his second wind, but Asami-sama would be heading back to his office soon and dealing with appointments and oversea phone calls, and paperwork.

 

Haru resigned himself to going to classes, turning his assignment in on time, and daydreaming about all the things he and Asami-sama were supposed to have done that night. He tried not to let his disappointment get him down, had even protested when Asami-sama had called and said that he would try to clear his schedule for this evening instead, but secretly he had really really hoped Asami would be able to manage it.

 

He was a bundle of nervous energy all day, and when he got out of his last class, and saw the limo, he was afraid he’d been quite rude to Kaito in his rush to get to the car. He would definitely have to apologize later.

 

Haru grins into his pillow and squirms a little. But who could blame him, though? Asami-sama had been in the back of the black car waiting for him. He’d gotten his first spanking of the evening with Asami’s bare hand. Just thinking about it makes Haru’s cock twitch a little.

 

Asami-sama had teased him, saying it was for making him wait a whole day to see him. He’d fingered Haru’s tight little hole the whole way back to the penthouse, until Haru was writhing and moaning shamelessly on his lap.

 

Haru’s cheeks burn against the cool cotton of his pillow. The rest of the night had been just what Haru had wanted, and exactly what he’d been needing. Asami-sama had let him pick his very favorite toy, and then he used it to lash his back and bottom and thighs with those searing licks of fire that made him so hot inside too. He’d fucked him then rough and hard, and then said, of course, they weren’t done. Boys who weren’t more careful of their school work must be disciplined thoroughly.

 

I should thank Kaito instead of apologizing . Haru giggles, and rolls onto his sore backside, relishing the ache of his muscles working, the bruised flesh pressing against the futon. The bath brush Asami had used stung like nobody’s business and landed with a solid wallop too. It  hurt , and Haru had cried and cried. He’d been fucked again slow and deep until he’d collapsed, completely wrung out on Asami’s huge bed. Even as his eyelids drooped, no matter how hard he’d worked to open them, he’d begged Asami for more and had fallen asleep to that deep chuckle and promises of another day.

 

As if Asami-sama is reading his thoughts, Haru’s phone beeps, and he fishes it out of his backpack and kneels next to the futon.

 

How much trouble did you have sitting down today?

 

Haru grins.

 

A lot! You spanked hard!

 

Another over the lap spanking by Asami-sama on the way to his school the next morning had brought to life all his bruises of the night before and added a fresh, burning glow to his already raw backside. Asami had wiped his tears away with an indulgent and rather tender smirk that made Haru’s chest flutter, despite the fact that his eyes were red-rimmed and shiny as he left the limo.

 

Mm. You needed it , came Asami’s swift reply.  You’ve been carrying around entirely too much tension lately.

 

It’s true, and Haru smiles softly as he sends a text back at Asami.

 

Thank you.

 

There’s a longer pause, and then his phone beeps.  It was my pleasure, sweet boy.  Haru pictures that tender look on Asami-sama’s face again, his stomach fluttering pleasantly, but then he laughs out loud at the text that follows it mere seconds later.

 

Now, GO TO SLEEP.

 

Yes, m’lord,  Haru answers, giggling at his cheek. He tosses his phone aside and burrows into the futon again, tired enough to not bother to get undressed or turn out the lights. He’s asleep almost before his head hits the pillow.

 

It seems like he’s only out a few minutes when the banging at his front door wakes him up.  Bleary-eyed he sits up, finally processing that someone really  is at the door, and that he needs to answer it.

 

“Coming,” Haru calls, stumbling on unsteady legs to pull open the door.  “Kaito?” he says dumbfounded to find his classmate shifting uneasily on his doorstep.

 

When Haru opens the door looking exhausted and half-asleep, Kaito has to take another deep breath to squash the pang of guilt, and the returning rage.

 

“Hey Haru.  Sorry for just showing up out of the blue like this but...could I maybe...come in for a sec?  Just to talk?”

 

The confusion is evident on Haru’s face as he nods and gestures for him to come inside.  He steps out of his shoes, declining Haru’s offer of tea, and sits across from Haru when he takes a seat on the futon.  There is an awkward silence for a few moments as Kaito wrings his hands in his lap and struggles with how to even bring up such a touchy topic.  Haru sits patiently, looking at him with those deep blue eyes of his fraught with concern and confusion, and Kaito decides to stop worrying about being tactful, and just say what he came to say.

 

“Haru, I want you to know that even though we haven’t really talked much or done much hanging out, we’ve been in the same program together since we were freshmen and I consider you a friend.  That being said, I also want you to know that if there’s ever anything I can do for you, or anything you need help with, or anything bothering you at all that you can talk to me and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

 

The look of confusion on Haru’s face deepens, but as he opens his mouth to say something, Kaito continues on.

 

“I know you don’t trust me, but I promise I’m only here to help.  Haru, I want to help you.”  He runs a hand through his hair.  “You must be so scared.  Hell, who wouldn’t be in your shoes?  It must be so hard to put on that smile everyday, try and convince everyone that nothing’s wrong, when deep down you’re really just terrified and hurting.  You don’t want anyone to know what’s going on, while at the same time wishing someone  did know so that then they might be able to help you, to...save you.  And that’s...that’s why I’m here Haru.  To let you know that you’re not alone, not anymore.  I know now, about what you’ve been going through the last few months.  I..I saw them Haru.  The m-marks on your back and your b-b-bottom.”  Kaito hates the way his voice breaks on the words, but he hates the fear he sees rising in Haru’s eyes even more.  He forces the words out, speaking quickly so that he can get it all out before Haru can interrupt.  “So now that I know what that bastard is doing to you, I promise you that I’m not going to let him hurt you anymore.  There are shelters, and organizations that can help.  Give you a safe place to go to make sure he can’t get to you anymore.  I know that you don’t want to talk to people about it, and I get that, I really do, but we need to call the cops.  They’ll be discreet, but they’ll make sure that asshole can’t ever hurt you or anyone else ever again.  You deserve so much better than this Haru, so much better.  You deserve to be loved and cared for, cherished.  Everyone does.  No one deserves to be abused, no matter what the circumstances are.  I don’t care if he’s funding your scholarship, that doesn’t give him the right to hurt you, or anyone else for that matter.  So please Haru.  Please trust me.  I can help you get free of him.  You don’t need to suffer anymore.”

 

When he finishes speaking Kaito stares at the floor, unable to bear seeing the fear in Haru’s eyes any longer.

 

For a long, excruciatingly uncomfortable moment, Haru can simply not think of a single thing to say. Kaito’s words have shocked him to the core, and his mind races as he considers and rejects possible responses, one after the other.

 

He wants to deny it, first of all, but Kaito, somehow,  has seen his marks. Haru wants to ask how, but that would be an admission, and then he would have to  explain , and he’s not quite ready or willing to give into the necessity.  Oh, God, Haru thinks frantically.  What if he’s told other people? The idea of having to divulge his most personal details, even to someone who has the best of intentions and wishes to help him, is mortifying. The idea of it being spread around the campus makes him feel physically ill.

 

His expressive face hides none of the emotional turmoil currently wracking his tired body. His heart is thumping madly in his chest, and his fingers curl, digging into the tops of his thighs. There’s so much to process in what Kaito said that Haru grows confused trying to remember all of it. In desperation, he focuses in on Kaito’s last words.

 

“Kaito...I’m  not being abused. I-I don’t know what exactly you saw, or what you mean about the scholarship, or...or needing to get free. But...it’s not what you think,” Haru finishes lamely.

 

He was expecting it.  The first stage of helping someone through a problem is getting them to admit that there actually  is a problem, and it’s the hardest part.  What Kaito hadn’t been expecting was the amount of fear his friend is showing.  Kaito contemplates reaching out a hand to him, but decides against it, not wanting to scare Haru any further.  He sighs and rubs a hand through his hair.

 

“I saw you in the locker room at the fitness center a little while ago.  You have welts and bruises all over your back and your thighs and...and your behind.  I saw them.  I’m not so dumb that I don’t know a whip mark when I see it.  And those bruises...my God Haru, what did that monster do to you?  You’re almost completely black and blue back there.  And don’t bother pretending they don’t hurt.  I watched, and you couldn’t sit without wincing all day.  That  is abuse Haru.  It’s the very  definition of abuse.  He’s hurting you and that is not okay.

 

“And I know you almost lost your scholarship a couple months ago because there was no more funding.  Lots of us were worried we’d have to get part time jobs in order to graduate.  But then miraculously, some anonymous donor gives the department all the money they need to make sure the scholarships keep on going, and you expect me to believe the limo you show up in every so often  doesn’t have anything to do with it?  I’m trying to help you Haru, I want to help you.  But I can’t do that if you keep rationalizing and lying to yourself.”

 

With another sigh, Kaito lets his shoulders slump forward.  He gathers the courage and scoots forward, placing a hand over Haru’s own where it bunches the material of his pants.

 

“It’s okay to be afraid, but you can’t let that fear control you.  You can’t let  him control you.  I know that it all seems so hopeless right now, but I promise I’ll help you get free of whatever blackmail or coercion he’s using to trap you.  Please, let me call the police.  What that man is doing is evil and wrong and you deserve better.  Please.”

 

He squeezes the hand under his gently, hoping that Haru will understand and trust him enough to let him help.

 

A flash of anger crosses Haru’s face. “He is  not evil,” Haru exclaims hotly, jerking his hand away, but he just as quickly deflates as he takes in Kaito’s genuine concern, the worry in his eyes and pained expression. “I’m sorry, Kaito, but he’s  not .”   
  
Kaito takes a breath but before he can speak, Haru rushes on. “And I’m not lying to myself. You--you just don’t under stand .” Kaito’s face takes on a sorrowful but stubborn determination, and Haru leans forward with earnest sincerity. “He doesn’t have  anything to do with those scholarships! But...but I’m not denying that...that I have those marks. You just have to understand. He wasn’t  abusing me. I…” Haru swallows hard and looks away, a hot blush staining his cheeks. “I wanted it.”

 

The admission startles Kaito for a moment and the room falls silent as he processes what Haru said.  It takes him a moment to see the flush across Haru’s face, but when he does, all the little pieces that hadn’t made sense before click into place.  And Kaito’s heart aches with the knowledge.

 

“Oh Haru please...please don’t say that...please.  No one  wants to be hurt and, deny it all you want but, abused that way.   No one .  It’s human nature to seek out love and comfort in our partners, not pain and suffering.  I don’t know what happened in your past to make you believe that this kind of relationship was what you needed, or wanted, or, gods forbid, deserved, but you don’t!”

 

Kaito takes a shaky breath, trying to quell the tears that prickle at his eyes.  He almost wishes that Haru was being blackmailed.  It would be so much easier to understand and help him if there was some external influence forcing Haru into this position.  But for someone as beautiful and talented and sweet and...wonderful as Haru to think so little of his own self worth…  Kaito pushes his tears aside and grabs Haru’s shoulders, turning him back to face him, and stares into Haru’s eyes.

 

“You are a beautiful, talented, amazing person.  You don’t...you  can’t want to suffer like this.  How could you even think that?  Was it him?  Did  he  tell you that this was what you wanted, or what you needed, or...what you deserved?  Or maybe...maybe he told you that he loves you, and that this is what love is?  Because it’s not!  It’s not  love !  And someone as wonderful as you  deserves to be loved !”

 

He can see the pain in Haru’s eyes as he talks, but he can also see resolution, determination to stick to the toxic mindset that has overtaken him.  With a deep sigh laced with his unshed tears, Kaito pulls his hands away and takes his phone out of his pocket.

 

“I can’t do this Haru.  I can’t let  you do this.  If I can’t make you see reason, make you understand just how valuable and brilliant you are, then I’ll just have to go over your head.  I hope you’ll forgive me someday, hope you’ll understand that this is for your own good.”

 

Flipping the phone open, Kaito starts to dial.

 

Haru’s expression transforms into panicked horror, and without pausing to think, he lunges for Kaito’s phone. “No! You can’t!”

 

Kaito whips it out of reach, but he can’t make the call while Haru is clinging to his arm.

 

“Please, just listen for a minute,” Haru begs, almost in tears. “Let me explain.”

 

His desperation must make Kaito waver because he nods shortly, but holds tightly to his phone, making sure that Haru can tell he’s serious about making the call. Haru takes a shuddering breath and forces himself to look into Kaito’s eyes.

 

“H-haven’t you heard of people liking those kinds of things? You must have. And it’s not like you’re making it sound!”

 

Kaito opens his mouth to protest, but Haru talks over him urgently. “Maybe some people are like that, but...but that’s not what it’s  supposed to be like. That’s not what it’s like for  me .” Haru’s voice drops, but he keeps his gaze steady. “All my life, for almost as long as I can remember, I’ve had...thoughts and...and...feelings and...urges that it didn’t seem like anyone else had. No one ever talked about it. For a long time, I  did wonder if there was something wrong with me, and if I was weird or messed up. But then, I started looking around online, and I read about it, all of it. You know, b-bondage and S&M and submission and…” Haru’s cheeks flame. He can’t believe he’s pouring all this out to someone he doesn’t know very well at all. “And well, everything. I found out I  wasn’t alone.”

 

Kaito inhales to speak again, but Haru stops him with a glare. “And my parents didn’t make me like this. They’re great, and I love them! And nobody else did either. It’s just me. Just the way I am. And I  like it that way. And Asami-sama--that’s who you keep calling evil and abusive--he isn’t cruel or awful the way you make him sound. He’s kind and wonderful, and he didn’t force me into  any of this. I went to  him .”

 

Kaito’s mind reels at the contradictions and flawed logic Haru is throwing at him.  The very idea that Haru has never,  ever seen himself as more than someone’s punching bag, and that he  likes it that way...hurts Kaito more than he imagined. Before yesterday, Haru was just another colleague who was in the same graduate program as him.  They’d spoken briefly about projects they were working on, tossed ideas around, shared notes when one or the other had missed class, but they hadn’t had much interaction with each other beyond that.  Haru was reserved and quiet.  He never got close to people, never shared anything about himself.  Now Kaito understands why, and it feels like he’s been stabbed in the chest.  Suddenly it doesn’t matter to him that they don’t know each other very well, all that matters is making sure Haru understands how truly valuable he is, no matter what he has to do to convince him.  He returns the glare that’s piercing through him with one of his own.

 

“Kind?   Kind ?!  He whipped you!  Whipped you!  Whips were designed for pain and to control people and animals through that pain!  They were used on slaves, people who weren’t even thought of as people at all but property!  Is that what you are to him?  His slave, his  property ?!  You’re a human being Haru!  You are an adult with free will!  And if you want to let him tie you up with those fuzzy handcuffs, or use a blindfold, then that’s your choice.  I might not understand it, but it doesn’t hurt anyone.   But that’s not what he’s doing!  He’s beating you!  And I saw you when you got out of that limo this morning.  You were crying!  You expect me to believe that makes him a kind and wonderful person?!  No.  NO!!  I’m calling the police Haru.  I can’t...no I  won’t stand by and watch you let yourself be some sadistic bastard’s punching bag just because you think that’s all you’re good for!”

 

When he sees the desperation in Haru’s eyes turn to near terror, Kaito realizes he might be doing more harm than good by pushing Haru to accept everything all at once.  The tears in the deep blue eyes begin to overflow and a small, whispered ‘No, please’ escapes Haru’s lips, causing a wave of guilt to wash over Kaito.  His face softens and he lowers his phone, swallowing the lump in his throat.

 

“Haru...Haru I’m not trying to hurt you.  I just...I can’t believe that you actually  want to be hurt like that, and that he, this Asami person, isn’t some sort of...of monster.  So I want you to...I want you to prove it to me.  Prove to me that he isn’t holding you against your will, that he’ll let you..let you leave anytime you want.  If you really went to him and you were the one who asked him to...to hurt you, then he should have no problem letting you go, right?”  Kaito grabs Haru’s phone from where it still sits next to the pillow and presses it into Haru’s hand.  “So call him.  Tell him that you don’t want to do that...stuff...with him for a while.  Make up an excuse.  I don’t care how you do it, just tell him.  Put it on speaker and don’t tell him I’m here.  If he threatens you in anyway, or tries to guilt you, or anything other than how a person who loves someone  should react to the person they love asking for space, then I’m going to call the police.  And if you don’t call him then…”  Kaito takes a deep breath and raises his phone again.  “...then I’m sorry and I know it will hurt you, but...but I’ll call the police myself, because I refuse to sit back and do nothing while someone I know is being abused right in front of me.”  He stares into Haru’s eyes, his gaze filled with concern and worry, and his own fear at losing a potential friend, but it’s backed by a fierce determination to do what he knows is right, regardless of the consequences.

 

Haru stares at him helplessly, caught between resentment and fear. “Why can’t you just listen? I  like it, even if you don’t get it. I like the pain. It makes me feel good. It...it turns me on…” Haru says defiantly, beyond the mortification of laying out his desires so baldly. “And he does what he does because he  knows I like it.  He likes giving it to me. And there’s  nothing wrong with that. He doesn’t force me or make me do anything I don’t want to. I even have safe word--a word I can say anytime--that means he’ll stop whatever he’s doing right away. Don’t you understand?”   
  


“Haru,” Kaito says, shaking his head. “Prove it to me.” 

 

Haru growls in frustration. “I’m not calling him and saying all those things! He’ll know something is wrong if I just say that out of the blue. He’ll worry, and...and it’s cruel to do that to him.”

 

“Sounds like you’re making excuses,” Kaito says gently.

 

“I’m  not .” Haru sits back on his heels and huffs out a pained sigh. His brow furrows as he stares at the hateful phone. “Fine,” he finally says grudgingly. “Maybe it’s better this way. You’ll see what he’s really like. And after you’ve got your proof, you have to promise me to talk to Asami-sama too and really listen to what we have to say about...about our lifestyle.” He looks up at Kaito, exuding raw vulnerability. “All right?”

 

Kaito contemplates Haru’s request.  It’s fair, and he knows it.  But the idea that what Haru is saying is true...is simply too baffling for him to grasp.  He grips his phone tightly and nods.

 

“That’s fair.  But if he doesn’t prove that he’s not being abusive, or if you tell him I’m here to try and make him answer the way you think I want, then you have to talk to the cops, and show them those marks he put on you, and tell them  exactly what he’s doing to you, and making you do.  But...if he does prove that he loves you and that you are both doing wh-whatever this is because you  both want to , and that you aren’t in any real danger, even though I don’t understand why anyone in their right mind would ever want to hurt or be hurt by the person they love on purpose, let alone because it’s a-a-arousing, then I promise I will try and be open minded.  I’ll sit down with this Asami person, and I’ll listen to what he has to say, and I will try...honestly try...to understand and comprehend what he has to say.”  He takes a deep breath and sets his shoulders, renewed determination in his eyes.  With a nod, he gestures to the phone in Haru’s hand.  “I’m ready when you are.”

 

Haru's chin lifts a little, a fierce light growing in his eyes. Kaito's words make him angry and indignant, and he's feeling even more protective of Asami-sama. He's not afraid at all of how Asami will come across. It's Kaito that will have to back down. But it hurts a lot to have what he holds so dear so misunderstood, so  belittled , even if Kaito has only the best intentions.

 

He takes the phone and quickly enters Asami's number, and then hits the speaker button with a pointed look at Kaito, who winces a little at the look on Haru's face.

 

The phone rings and Haru's pulse starts racing. He should have thought things through first. What should he even say? He bites his lip and then flushes when he notices Kaito's assessing gaze.

 

He frowns a little when Haru’s number shows on his caller i.d. Not irritation, but concern, because they’ve said goodnight and he knows Haru is beyond exhausted. He should already have been asleep.

 

“Is everything all right, Haru-kun?” he asks without preamble, as worrying for them is simply always going to be a thing he does. His deepest fear, though he doesn’t give it voice, is that someday his past, the life he leads, the people he has given cause to hate him, will come at him through the ones he holds most dear. It is why he’s never allowed anyone to matter to him enough to be useful as a weapon to be turned on him. Until these boys. He keeps his voice even though, because he never wants them to know it, to get even a hint at the gut-wrenching terror the thought of it gives him late at night when they’re not there with him so that he knows they’re safe.

 

“I...I’m all right, Asami-sama,” says Haru, and Asami knows instantly that he’s not. “I’ve just...been thinking and I...I want to ask you something?”

 

Asami frowns more deeply, because the tone in Haru’s voice is not right at all, but something keeps him from asking about it. Yet.

 

“All right,” he says calmly.

 

Haru chews at his lip a second, and then takes a shaky breath. “Um...well, I’ve been thinking that maybe I shouldn’t come over this weekend. It’s just, last night was pretty intense...and with school and everything, you know…” Haru’s voice is wavering, and it trails off as he tries to think of what to say next.

 

The silence is painful as he casts a quick look at Kaito, who’s watching him intently, something like pity in his eyes. Haru grips the phone harder, and his mouth tightens, but he says softly, “I think...I think I need a little space for a while.”

 

He hates himself a little for what he says to Asami-sama, for giving in to Kaito so easily, but he’s not sure what else he  could do. Kaito is completely serious about calling the police, and the thought of exposing Asami to that kind of scrutiny is unthinkable. His stomach churns as he waits for Asami to speak.

 

Asami is honestly speechless for several seconds, pulling his phone away from his ear to stare at it warily, as though it has perhaps been possessed by some demonic being that sounds like Haru. And has Haru’s phone. 

 

“Haruki,” he says slowly, clearing his throat and trying to think of some possible reason why Haru would be saying such an odd thing, “I’m...genuinely sorry if you feel last night got out of hand. I’m generally better at gauging your reactions...and desires...than I apparently was then. If you need a break, of course you may take one. I never want you to neglect your schoolwork, and if you feel it’s suffering because of the time we spend together, then by all means, put your energies and your focus where they are the most important. But…” He hesitates a moment, because something is obviously  not right , and he doesn’t want to make it worse with whatever words he chooses. Haru sounds tense and distressed, but he doesn’t hear anything in the tone of his boy’s voice that makes him think Haru is actually in  danger.  He doesn’t like not knowing what’s going on. Not one bit! He looks at his watch and considers calling Suoh. “But I wish you’d talk to me about whatever is bothering you. I do hope you know there is nothing you can’t say to me, if something’s wrong. We will work it out, you and I and Akihito. All right?”

 

“Akihito?!”  Kaito shouts, rather loudly, forgetting that he doesn’t want Asami to know he’s there.  “Who the fuck is Akihito?!  Do you mean to tell me that not one, but  two people are abusing you Haru?!  That’s it.  I’m done.  I’m not listening to another word of excuses from either you, or that deranged bastard on the phone.  I’m calling the police.”  Kaito stands up, effectively getting both himself and his phone out of Haru’s reach, and presses the call button.

 

Haru’s eyes widen in stunned disbelief, but his body moves of its own accord. He tackles Kaito despite his aches and pains and the fact that Kaito probably has a couple of inches and at least ten pounds on him. It’s not until he’s wrenched the phone away and hits End Call, that Haru  really lets loose on Kaito.

 

“How dare you! I know you think you’re doing this to save me or whatever, but you have  no right  to come here and force me into this! Did you  hear  him? He reacted just like you said he  should . How dare you call him names! How dare you judge him and me and...and Akihito!” Haru isn’t quite shouting, but his vehemence is obviously shocking to Kaito. “And,  yes , he’s my lover too. The three of us are together, and we’re  happy , and he’s  not abusing me! STOP USING THAT WORD!”

 

Kaito shoves Haru off of him, not nearly as gently as he would have liked, and loses control of his barely contained temper.

 

“I  won’t stop using that word, because it is  exactly what is going on!  He might have said he would give you time if you needed it for school, and that if there was something wrong you could always talk to him about it, and you’re right.  That  is how he is supposed to respond.  But that doesn’t excuse the fact that there is apparently  a completely other person  involved in this whole thing!  How in the fuck can you be with  two people at the  same time !!  It’s  wrong !”  By the time he’s finished Kaito is practically screaming in rage.

 

Asami doesn’t call Suoh. He just heads for the parking garage and takes out the BMW. From the car, he makes a phone call. This is to Akihito, with whom he shares the, admittedly, very sketchy information he has, and sternly orders his other boy NOT to break traffic laws on that horribly precarious little scooter of his enroute to Haru’s apartment, because he’s well aware telling Aki to stay home would be pointless. 

 

Haru stares aghast as Kaito rages and turns redder and redder in his anger. Suddenly, it’s all too much, and he wishes desperately that Asami was there. He has no idea what Asami-sama is thinking now, but it can’t be good. Haru’s body is wracked, his mind exhausted, and his emotions are in tumult. He doesn’t know what to say or do. But Kaito’s message comes through loud and clear. 

 

Haru’s shoulders slump. “So your real problem is with me then, I guess,” Haru says with teary-eyed weariness. “In the end, it’s not even about me supposedly being abused. You just don’t like things that  you  don’t do. You don’t like people who are different from you. What does it hurt anyone if the three of us want to be together? Does it hurt  you ? Does it take  anything  from you? Does it offend you  so  much?”

 

Kaito is speechless at Haru’s words.  He stares at Haru, who looks completely dejected and almost like a kicked puppy.  Realization at what he’s said hits him like a bucket of ice water in the face.  His mouth opens and closes for a moment before he finally responds.

 

“I...It’s not...I don’t have any problem with  you Haru.  It’s this whole…”  He flaps his hand uselessly in the air, encompassing the entirety of the events that have transpired in the last few hours.  “...this whole...thing...whatever this thing is.  It doesn’t make any  sense .  Try and imagine this from  my perspective.  If you saw a friend...yes, a  friend ...being abu…”  Haru shoots Kaito a glare that looks as though it might actually burn him and Kaito rescinds the word.  “...who had those marks on them, wouldn’t you want to help them too?  There’s only one way for you to have gotten those marks Haru, and you’ve already admitted that this Asami person is the one who gave them to you.  I…”

 

He stops for a moment to take a deep breath and run his hands through his hair, shaking so badly his knees start to give out on him as his mind is overloaded with conflicting emotions.

 

“I don’t  understand !  It  looks like abuse, it  sounds like abuse, and yet you sit there and tell me that it’s  not .  That you  actually asked someone to hurt you.  Why would you do that?  Depressed people do that, people with no self-esteem do that...but you’re neither!  But I wanted to try.  I did!  I wanted... want to try and understand and listen to what you have to say, but then I find out there’s some third mystery person involved, and I’m just so out of my depth, and out of my...my...my comfort zone I don’t even know  what to say.  I like you Haru...not in that way...but I want to be your friend.  I don’t have problems with people who are different from me, but this is  so different and I’m still not even sure I believe that this Asami  isn’t abusing you.  I just don’t know  what to think anymore.”

 

Kaito throws up his hands in frustration and sits back down on the futon, burying his face in his hands.

 

Haru pushes his hair off his face, and sighs deeply. “Look...I get that. I really do get that seeing those marks on me must have freaked you out. But, Kaito, I’m...a masochist.” Haru laughs ruefully. “I never really say stuff like that out loud, but that’s what I am. I  do  like pain. Nothing that will  really  hurt, like break bones or make me bleed internally or scar me. But I do like it. The marks you saw were from a signal whip that Asami-sama has. It sounds really scary, I know, being whipped. But, oh, it feels so good. It stings and it hurts, but in a  good  way,” Haru says intently. “The bruises you saw were from a brush. That’s a different kind of pain, good in its own way, but it’s…” Haru’s brows draw together as he struggles to explain. “It’s...freeing. It takes whatever is locked up inside me...stress...tension...fears...and it lets it all out. It’s cleansing. I don’t know  why  I like it. I’m just wired that way. It’s just part of me. I can’t change it.”

 

Haru looks warily at Kaito, trying to gauge his reaction, but his poker-faced expression isn’t giving anything away. Haru soldiers on anyway. “Between me and Aki--Akihito--it isn’t like that. We both like pain, not exactly the same way, but we don’t do that to each other. And there’s one more thing…” Haru steels himself, wanting to tell Kaito himself before he finds out and twists it around to something ugly in his mind. “I...I like submission too. And Asami-sama, he’s...he’s my dominant. But it’s all consensual. I’m willing,  totally  willing, “ Haru says, unable to help the deep blush that spreads over his cheeks. “And like I said before, if there was ever anything I didn’t want, Asami-sama would respect that. But he really has been so good to me, and he’s  never  done anything I didn’t like. I trust him completely. And Aki too.”

 

Kaito presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, willing the threatening migraine away.  It’s all so strange, so...bizarre to him.  How can being hurt or...submission, whatever that means...be anything but awful?  An image returns to Kaito’s fraying mind, and he latches onto it.

 

“But you were crying!”  He jerks his head up and looks at Haru, eyes wide.  “When you got out of the limo this morning you were crying!  And yesterday, when it pulled up...you looked...you looked so afraid.  And...and...and every time you sit down you wince...you’re in pain!  How...how…?  It doesn’t...you were  crying !”

 

His eyes grow even wider as he speaks, his anger and frustration and confusion giving way to a weird, almost paralyzing fear as his ideas and thoughts about the way things are  supposed to work get shredded around him.  He almost,  almost , wishes he’d never seen Haru in the locker room that night.  Then none of this bizarreness would be happening and he could have just gone about his life not knowing about...any of this.

 

As Haru is opening his mouth to reply, the door to the apartment flies open and rebounds off the wall with a loud bang. The young man standing in the doorway appears to be about Haru’s age. His shaggy blonde hair surrounds his head and falls in his eyes in wild disarray (the source of this at least partially explained by the presence of the motorcycle helmet clutched in the hand not brandishing a fist surrounding the key to Haru’s apartment), and his hazel eyes blaze with fury. He’s wearing tight faded blue jeans and an Inu Yasha t-shirt. He storms into the apartment.

 

“Alright, where’s the bastard who’s upsetting our Haru! I will punch you in the DICK!”

 

"Aki!" Haru cries in surprise, but he throws himself at him in sheer relief and gratitude. Akihito's arms come around him, and Haru sags against him, soaking up the comfort of his presence.

 

It's obvious Asami-sama told him something, Haru's not sure what, but the way Akihito is glowering at Kaito makes him rush to smooth things over.

 

"Aki, this is Kaito. He's a classmate. He...uh...saw the marks Asami-sama gave me last night, and he was worried about me. He thought, you know, that I was being abused.”

 

Haru looks at Kaito and smiles tentatively. “Kaito, this is Akihito. My boyfriend.”

 

At a complete and total loss for words at the sudden, and rather explosive, appearance of the newcomer, Kaito watches the exchange with a look on his face that is reminiscent of a deer in headlights.  But when he sees the small smile and the almost expectant look in Haru’s eyes as he introduces his boyfriend, he nods politely and manages a smile of his own.  Although it is obviously forced and makes him feel almost exposed under the villainous glare he’s receiving from Haru’s seemingly crazed boyfriend.  Kaito clears his throat and tries to speak.

 

“H-hello.  I’m Kaito.”  What actually comes out is more of a stuttering whimper, but the man did threaten to punch him in the dick, so he can’t honestly be blamed for a bit of trepidation at speaking to him.

 

“You’re the one who’s upsetting Haru. That’s not allowed.” Aki takes a minute to tip Haru’s face up and kiss him. Thoroughly. Even though Haru turns quite red, he returns the kiss. Akihito is honest enough with himself to admit he’s being petty. Staking his claim. Which is pretty ridiculous since Asami’s the one driving this train wreck, but since he’s not here yet and won’t be for a little longer, Aki figures it’s up to him to try to help Haru.

 

“Have the police actually been called? Because Asami said to call this guy he knows named Kuroda if they have.”

 

The rather pale-faced young man on the futon shakes his head nervously. Haru blushes even darker.

 

“He...started to...but I...um...tackled him.”

 

“You did? Dude, that’s awesome! Go, Haru! I’m gonna make a thug of you yet. So Kaito...what’s your problem anyway? Haru’s not being abused. We’re just...him and me… we like stuff that might be different from other people. Are you one of those people who can’t accept anybody who’s different from them? I like pocky a lot. If you hate it, does that mean there’s something wrong with me because I like it?” He gives his best stern glare, which is probably not very good, but he’s been practicing in the mirror, which he will never admit to anybody, even under torture. He’s going to try it on Haru sometime when they’re messing around and see if it works.

 

“Pocky...what…?”  It takes Kaito’s brain a moment to catch up to the strange metaphor Akihito uses.  “I don’t hate...I don’t hate anything...or any one for that matter.  It’s just...he was crying... crying .  And those marks are so awful...and how could anyone…?  When you say you and him like stuff...does that mean that you...that he...that you’re  both being...hurt...by this Asami person?  That you’re both maso...masopeople?”  If Kaito was to be completely honest with himself, which he usually is but this entire day has taken everything he ever knew about life and thrown in out a third story window, he would admit that the sudden appearance of 

Haru’s boyfriend, combined with the kiss that looked far more like Akihito was trying to devour Haru’s soul through his mouth than any kiss Kaito had ever seen, had made an already confusing situation ten times worse.  Kaito suddenly feels so extremely uncomfortable, so mortifyingly out of place, that his breath begins to come short.  He stands suddenly, grabs his keys and phone and heads towards the door, shaking his head in stubborn refusal to accept the unfolding...ness.

 

“I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have...I don’t...I’m just...I’m gonna go.”

 

“Wait! Kaito,” Haru cries out, pulling away from Akihito a bit and really looking closely at the confusion and distress so evident in his expression. “Wait,” he says more softly, stepping forward to put a hand on Kaito’s arm. “Don’t go yet. Let me...let me answer your questions. Please.”

 

Kaito allows himself to be led to the low table in one corner of Haru’s small room and settled onto a flat pillow. Kaito looks pale, and Haru doesn’t like that. A surge of guilt hits him suddenly, and he looks at Akihito in worry. “Could you please make some tea, Aki?”

 

Turning back to Kaito, he reaches out to the hand that’s tightly clenched around his keys, touching it lightly. “Kaito...I  do  appreciate you being concerned about me. That’s...well, it’s extremely kind of you, and brave too. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to come here and...talk about this. So...so  thank  you for that. But I really do want you to understand.”

 

Haru looks over his shoulder at Aki, who’s still not looking too charitable towards Kaito, but he shoots Haru a encouraging grin. 

 

“You keep talking about crying,” Haru begins. “And it’s true. I was crying this morning. But...it feels good to cry sometimes. Doesn’t it to you too? Maybe you don’t do it for the same reason, but it’s such a release, isn’t it? And afterward, it’s really nice, too, because Asami-sama and Aki, we’ll all be so close, and it feels wonderful. They’ll hold me and take care of me, and it’s one of the best parts about all of it. And, Kaito,” Haru looks at him and smiles. “I wasn’t afraid when the car came to get me. I  was  really anxious all day long because I was hoping I’d get the chance to see Asami-sama, but I wasn’t sure. I think you just misunderstood my body language, or whatever. But I was  really  happy to see him, and I didn’t want to keep him waiting.  I didn’t want to wait. And, yeah, I was having trouble sitting down all day, but I love that part of it too. It reminds me of how I got those marks and bruises.” Haru grins a bit evilly, and adds, just to see the look of embarrassed shock on Kaito’s face, “It reminds me of the really really hot sex that happens afterwards too.”

 

“Oh God.”  Kaito buries his head in his hands as his entire face turns the color of a ripe tomato.  He takes a moment to push the startlingly realistic image Haru’s comment has painted out of his mind before raising his head again.  When Akihito sets a cup of tea in front of him, he takes it gratefully, sipping carefully as he tries, and fails, to put his thoughts into some sort of coherent order.  “So you...you  like to cry?”  Haru smiles and nods in agreement.  Kaito runs his hand through his hair for what seems like the millionth time that night.  “Crying always gives me a headache.  And I don’t...nobody’s ever held me or...anything like that when I cry.  So I guess...I guess I can’t...really comment on that.  I just...I thought...Do you think Yoshinori-sensei is really serious about only giving us two weeks to finish our final models?”

 

Akihito sighs. He’s pretty disappointed that he’s not going to get to actually punch anybody in the dick. He can’t even stay  mad  anymore. He doesn’t kick puppies. Shit.

 

He sits down beside Kaito and nudges him with his shoulder.

 

“Don’t chicken out now, man. You started this. Asami’s on his way, Haru, I don’t think I mentioned that. Haru’s professor isn’t here right now, and we are. Look, it’s okay that you don’t understand. I don’t think you have to. But we’re willing to help you do that, if you want to. Haru...he’s like the best person I know. He’s sweet and thoughtful. He makes me feel...special. Like I’m not a lame-ass kid that nobody takes seriously. I don’t like the idea of you thinking less of him because he…. allows someone to hurt him. And you do. Right now, you want to escape this mess you made, but you’ll avoid him from now on and that’ll make him sad. It’s not okay to make Haru sad. And...Kaito...I’m sorry you’ve never had anyone to hold you when you cried.”

 

With a deep sigh Kaito buries his head in his arms once again and wishes he had listened to his mother when she had told him to keep his big nose out of other people’s business.

 

“Is... he going to punch me in the dick too?”  Kaito’s voice is muffled, but still understandable.

 

“No dicks are getting punched tonight.” Haru smacks Aki when he snickers. “I know earlier you said that you’d listen to Asami before things got out of hand, but if you really don’t want to, then...I understand. I don’t want to make this even worse for you.” Haru looks at Kaito a little sadly, but resigned. “If you need to leave, that’s okay.”

 

Kaito’s mouth goes dry as a sudden, horrifying thought hits him.  He turns to Haru, terror in his eyes.

 

“He’s not...he’s not going to...going to  hit me...is he?  Because I...because I…”  Kaito’s voice is almost a whisper.  The fear of being subjected to the same treatment as Haru, even if Haru apparently likes it, which is still weird but starting to sound less bizarre, nearly paralyzes Kaito’s lungs, and his breath comes in shakily and he finds himself unable to complete his thought.

 

Haru’s mouth drops open, and Aki makes an indignant sound beside him. “No!” he cries. “He would  never  do that. He’s not going to hurt you at all!” Haru insists. “What we do, me and Aki and Asami-sama, is  special .” Haru frowns, offended on Asami’s behalf, but trying to be understanding of Kaito’s fears.

 

“What is special?” 

 

Three heads swivel towards the doorway, where a very tall, broad-shouldered man wearing what can only be a bespoke (and terrifyingly expensive) three piece suit that fits his athletic frame perfectly, has appeared quite suddenly, as though out of thin air. His black hair falls artfully over one golden eye, and his stare seems to pin all three of them in place. Akihito and Haruki, however, are only frozen for a few seconds, and then both leap at him with glad cries. He catches both of them in an arm, not staggering even a little with their momentum, and smiles down at them with unfeigned affection.

 

“It’s about time you got here,” complains Aki, banging on his shoulder with a fist, which Asami catches easily, bringing the offending hand to his mouth and biting Aki gently on the knuckles. He leans down and kisses Haru softly.

 

“I came as quickly as I could. Are you all right, Haru-kun?” he asks, lifting Haru’s chin so he can look carefully into his boy’s eyes. What he sees there mollifies him only a little. The worst of the trouble is passed, but not all of it. He brushes aside the collar of Haru’s shirt and rubs his thumb over the small bronze plaque riveted to brown leather, then turns to look at the young man on the floor, who is staring up at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

 

“And who is this?” he asks. His voice isn’t the truly petrifying one they have both heard him use before, notably at the Black Rose on a certain bastard they’d all just as soon forget, but it’s still edged with ice.

 

“Asami-sama, this is Kaito,” Haru says with a reassuring smile to Kaito. “ This is Asami Ryuichi, and he promises not to punch you in the dick.”

 

The sudden appearance of the, much larger than anticipated, man drives the breath from Kaito’s lungs.  Recognition tickles at the back of Kaito’s mind, and is then flung to the forefront when Haru introduces him.  There is only one Asami Ryuichi in Tokyo, at least only one of any real importance, and Kaito has seen his picture in more than a dozen papers and magazines over the years.  And now, he’s standing in Haru’s apartment, filling the tiny room with his impressive presence, and staring down at Kaito with cold amber eyes.  Kaito finds himself scooting backwards unconsciously, until his back hits the wall, and wishing he had taken Haru up on his offer of leaving before things got worse.  He’s fairly certain  worse just walked through the door, and won’t take kindly to him trying to leave, at least not until he’s done whatever it is he came to do.  Kaito hears Haru’s voice in the back of his head assuring him that Asami won’t hurt him, and he clings to it like a lifeline, because the man in front of him looks like he could hurt a whole lot of people, and not have to put forth much effort to do it.

 

“......”  Kaito opens his mouth to greet the formidable figure, and pales even further when no sound comes out.  He swallows his heart, which has some how found its way into his throat, and tries again.  “H-h-hello A-asami-s-s-san.”  With every ounce of brain power he has left Kaito prays to any and every deity who is willing to listen, promising anything they want, so long as he can leave this apartment in one piece.

 

“Hello, Kaito,” says Asami. He’d come here bearing not the slightest inclination for mercy, having deduced from the things Haru had said on the phone and then the outburst from the young man he’s looking down on now, that this is someone Haruki knows from the University, who has somehow learned something of their relationship and jumped to the wrong conclusion. Knowing how private Haru is, this must be excruciating for his sensitive little pet, and that makes him angry. He’s not personally concerned for any fallout from accusations by ill-informed do-gooders, but he doesn’t like Haru to be distressed. The worst of the crisis he’d overheard on the phone seems to be past, because Haru is looking up at him with his, “fix this!” expression and not his, “save me!” one, and Akihito seems relatively relaxed. Kaito, on the other hand, looks terrified. His mouth curls up slowly on one side. It’s neither a friendly or a comforting smile. He won’t make things worse for Haru, but he’s not adverse to a small amount of judicious looming either, and is man enough to admit he enjoys it.

 

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that if you’re going to accuse a man of something, you should have the courage to do it to his face? Well, here I am.”

 

Poor Kaito pales even further, which Asami wouldn’t have thought was possible. He can’t resist rolling his eyes just a little.

 

“No? Very well then. I suppose if it’s not going to be pistols in the park at dawn, we’ll have to talk about this instead. If you have anything to say to me, young man, feel free to say it. If that’s too frightening for you, I’ll answer your questions.”

 

“Asami, don’t terrorize him,” says Aki.

 

“Me? I haven’t threatened to punch anyone in the dick. I’m assuming that rather colorful threat came from you!”

 

“You’re….you’re  looming !” says Akihito, waving his hands theatrically. Asami huffs out a put-upon sighs and folds himself down onto a cushion, thinking not for the first time that he needs to buy Haru some actual furniture. And possibly a larger apartment to put it in. He looks at Kaito severely and the poor boy gapes at him in horror, so much so that he glances down and realizes his gun is showing. Oops.

 

When Kaito sees the handle of what is obviously a gun poking out from the inside of Asami’s jacket, his life does a merry little dance in front of his eyes.  He’d thought about the consequences of going up against the person who was hurting Haru before he’d even come over, but he hadn’t expected said person to be Asami fucking Ryuichi, and he certainly hadn’t been expecting him to have a gun.  Or an obvious ability and lack of hesitation to use it.  He doesn’t personally know anyone who carries a gun, but he knows that people only carry them if they intended to use them.  For not the first time that evening, Kaito wishes he had never come across Haru in the locker room, or decided to study Architecture at Tokyo University...or even been born for that matter.  But, he thinks to himself, there is no point in dying pointlessly, or in his case, huddled and cowering in the corner of a friend’s apartment.  So, against his better judgement, and the advice of every single little voice that ever spoke inside the mind of any person  ever , he straightens himself, takes a deep breath, and looks directly into the amber fire of Asami’s eyes.

 

“I’m here, because Haru is my friend.  And I don’t take too kindly to people hurting and threatening my friends.  Haru couldn’t sit right all day.  You made him cry.  You put those...those marks on his back and...other places.  And, although Haru denies it, you donated the money to the Art Department to make sure Haru kept his scholarship and wouldn’t have to get a part time job so that you could keep...hurting him whenever you want.  So far, my opinion, although I’m sure you don’t care and that even if I call the police you’ve already paid off at least half of them to keep this quiet and I’ll be the one who ends up in jail for slander or some bullshit, you are nothing more than an abusive bastard who takes joy from seeing other people hurting and in pain.  You use your money to buy your lovers so that they feel so indebted to you that they can’t leave you for fear that you’ll make their lives so miserable they’ll wish they’d never been born.”  Kaito sees the horrified and pained look on Haru’s face, but tears his eyes away, determined to finish.  “And I only have one question for you.”  Kaito takes another deep breath, this one much shakier than the last.  “Can you...can you prove me wrong?”

 

Asami looks at Kaito for several very long moments, then glances at Haru. He looks as though he’s on the verge of tears. 

 

“I could prove it to a person who was willing to keep an open mind. There have been men like you throughout the ages, Kaito. No one can prove anything to men like you. You hear and see what you want to hear and see. You feed innocents to lions because they refuse to think and worship like you. You drown women and give their grieving families the reassurance that at least now they know their mother wasn’t a witch, unless you’ve decided to burn her at the stake instead. You’re not here to help Haru anymore. You’re here on a witch hunt. No. No, I cannot prove you wrong.” He looks at Haru again, because he’s the only person Asami is here to reassure or prove anything to.

 

“Haruki...I did not donate the scholarship fund to the University. You earned it in your own right. My word on it.”

 

He looks back at the frightened and angry young man on the floor across from him.

 

“If you’d like to stop being a bigoted little piece of shit, I’ll answer any questions you may have until you are satisfied. Otherwise, you may feel free to contact the authorities to satisfy your own self-righteousness, which will accomplish nothing but to hurt the very person you profess to want to help. And I promise you, it will get you nowhere and make you an enemy of me. No, I’m not threatening you with violence. I do not kick small, vicious dogs. But if you hurt Haru...and I assure you that the only person in this room who has  ever done so in a way he did not desire right now is  you ...you will be very sorry for it.”

 

Haru’s eyes are swimming by this point. He’s torn because he can help feeling horribly sympathetic to Kaito. He looks terrified, and he can’t really blame him. He’d been scandalized when Kaito saw Asami’s exposed gun. And now it’s three against one, and Kaito must be feeling all kinds of uncomfortable. And all because Kaito wanted to help him. But even so, Haru is deeply wounded by Kaito’s words. Before he can speak again, Haru lifts his chin proudly.

 

“I’ll thank you again, Kaito, for wanting to help me. I genuinely believe you were trying to do the right thing. But even though you’ve seen evidence for yourself that you’ve misunderstood, you still won’t back down, won’t even really try to understand, or at least, to accept it a little.” Haru’s gaze grows a little harsher. “And you’ve insulted Asami-sama and Aki in the worst way. You obviously consider me basically...a...a whore. Someone who wants to be with Asami-sama either because I want to use him for his money, or because I’m just too messed up and sick to know better.” Haru takes a deep breath, resolving to end the whole thing now. “I’m sorry you can’t see how wrong you are, and I won’t let you talk about Asami-sama and Aki like that anymore. I...I think it’s time that you left now.”

 

It hurts.  A lot.  Hearing Asami tell him he was nothing more than a bigot was hard, but listening to the pain in Haru’s voice was even worse.  He knows,  knows that what he’s done tonight has hurt Haru.  But he also knows that if he leaves now, he’ll never be able to look at Haru again, and he’ll spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder for the time Asami decides he’s going to  start kicking small, vicious dogs.  He clenches his fists and shuts his eyes, trying, but failing, to keep the tears in his own eyes from spilling over.  Gritting his teeth he takes a shuddering breath.

 

“You said...you said that if I was going to accuse you of something that I should do it to your face!  And that if I had anything to say that I should feel free to say it!  So I did!  And as for being frightened...I passed frightened the moment Haru’s crazy otaku boyfriend came bursting through the door threatening to punch me in the dick!  By the..by the time  you got here, with your icy gaze, and your ten-foot-tall-and-bulletproof attitude, and your  actual gun , frightened was nothing more than a distant memory!  Yesterday, everything made sense!  The sky was blue, the grass was green, and when you saw someone with strange bruises and marks all over them, you let them know that you were there to help and you called the cops!  S...S...S...S&M was about fuzzy handcuffs and blindfolds!  Not w-whips and d-d-dominants!  When you loved someone, you would do anything  not to hurt them, not spend your time  making them hurt.  I said all those things again not because I believe them, although I’m not entirely sure I don’t, but I want to  try , but because I didn’t want you to think I was a coward who wasn’t man enough to tell someone what he thinks of them to their face, and because I wanted you to know why...why all of this is so hard for me to understand.  You’re famous, you’re rich, you have everything you could ever want, and you could crush my entire existence with a five second phone call!”  Kaito is nearly screaming, his head still lowered and his eyes closed tightly.  He can’t look at them, can’t bear to see Haru’s expression.  There’s only one more thing he can think of to say.  “All I wanted was to help.  I know now that I should have never come, that I should have let well enough alone.  But how could I?  I can’t…”  He refuses to wipe at the tears that stubbornly slide down his cheeks.  “I can’t just sit back and watch while someone is hurting right in front of me.”  His voice drops to a mere whisper and cracks as his emotions threaten to overwhelm him completely.  “I’m s-sorry.  I’ll leave you alone.  I promise I’ll never talk to the cops about it or to anyone else ever.  And Haru...I won’t...I won’t bother you again.  I’d say I’d make sure you never see me or have to talk to me, but we’re in the same classes so...I’ll just stay away.  I promise.”  Kaito reaches for his keys, gripping them so tightly his knuckles show white.  “I’m sorry.”

 

Asami nods his head once.

 

“Very well. You did do as I challenged you, and you can have my respect for showing the courage to do so...on one condition. You can spout your own rhetoric even when you’re frightened, but do you have the courage to not just listen to what Haruki and I...and Akihito if he wishes to have his say...have to tell you, but to also  hear  it, even if it does not fit into your tidy world that you understood yesterday? You’re a student. ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy’.”

 

The sudden quote startles him, and he almost laughs.  But he decides against it and opts for a counter response instead.

 

“Oh day and night but this is wondrous strange.”  Kaito dares a small smile at Asami, but he's still too afraid to look at Haru.  “I think...I think I can agree with your condition, provided you...you promise not to shoot me.”

 

“I try not to shoot people who aren’t actually trying to kill me or mine,” says Asami with a small chuckle. “It tends to distress Akihito.”

 

Haru just stares at the floor dumbly, defeatedly, during Kaito’s long rant. He’s beyond exhausted, and he’s not even quite sure what Kaito is saying. All his words run together, and all Haru really hears is the accusations and the revulsion and the promise that he intends to stay far away from Haru. Something inside him shrivels a little.

 

The sound of Asami’s light laugh makes him look up wearily, but he can’t feel any humor in the moment. He feels strung out to the utmost limit, tears pressing hard, trying to escape, making his eyeballs throb and his head ache.

 

“I don’t have anything else to say,” he murmurs in a monotone, barely above a whisper. “You know how I feel, what I told you I am. I told you that I trust them completely. I love them. I want to be with them. You can believe me or not. You can think I’m a freak or abused if you want. I...I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t want that. Asami-sama and Aki are here because they wanted to make sure I was all right. I told you he would know something was wrong. You can’t blame him for coming to see for himself. But I’m sorry. And I know that all of this is really hard for you to take. I know I make you really uncomfortable now.” Here, Haru’s voice begins to waver, but he doggedly carries on. “You don’t have to worry about seeing me in class. I promise not to look at your or talk to you or bother you in any way. That’s all…” Haru finishes, dropping his gaze to the floor again.

 

With a small glare at Asami, as though daring him to stop him, Kaito moves towards Haru.  It’s his fault Haru is upset.  If he hadn’t made Haru call Asami and had just  listened when he was trying to tell him it was a misunderstanding, then none of this  extraordinarily awkward situation would be happening.  But he  hadn’t listened, and had  continued to not listen and shout horribly hurtful things at someone he was  supposed to have been there to help.  He shoots another small glare at Asami, although this one has a bit more fear in it than daring, and places a hand on Haru’s shoulder.

 

“I don’t...think you’re a freak.  I  do believe you when you say you love them and that the...three of you are...happy.  I...I believe you when you say that you’re not being abused.  I just...I still don’t understand how it  isn’t abuse, but I promise that I do believe you when you say you aren’t being abused by Asami-san.  And I am scared.  Terrified actually.  And  immensely uncomfortable.  But not because of you.  I told you before.  I  like you Haru, and I still want to be your friend, although I understand if you really don’t want to be mine, not after I’ve been such an ass.  I mean, who would want to be friends with someone who can’t seem to keep his big mouth shut when one of the most powerful men in the city shows up with a  gun ?”  Kaito sneaks another glance at Asami, just to be sure he isn’t about to pull said gun.  The larger man’s face is unreadable, but neither of his hands is in his jacket, so Kaito presses on.  “I’m really sorry for upsetting you Haru, for demanding that you call Asami-san...and say those things.  I’m really,  really sorry.”  He takes a deep breath and drops his hand from Haru’s shoulder, placing it over top of Haru’s own hand where it sits in his lap.  “Can you forgive me?  I have  so many questions, and I want to understand what all this is...and is about.  But I’ve been an insensitive prick, and I don’t really deserve your forgiveness.  I’d like to stay and try and make it up to you, but if you really want me to leave...then I will.  We can ignore each other in class, although it would hurt me to do so, if that will make things better for you.”  He grips the hand in his tighter, and Haru can feel his hand trembling.  “So...Haru...will you let me stay?”

 

Haru raises his head and looks at Kaito searchingly. He  wants  to believe Kaito really means it, but he doesn’t think he can deal with any more rejection just now. He’s not sure Kaito will  ever  understand or accept the way things are with him.

 

But Kaito’s worn, strained, hangdog look makes most of his defenses crumble. Right now, he looks a little like Haru feels, hurt and lost, and he’s without the support that Haru has. All of Haru’s empathic tendencies flare to life again. He nods. “If you want to, then, yes. You can stay. You can ask questions. Asami-sama’s really good at explaining things.”

 

Kaito’s shoulders slump in relief when Haru tells him he can stay.  He squeezes Haru’s hand again in silent thanks before letting him go and moving back to where he had been sitting.  When he looks in Haru’s eyes, he can’t see as much anger as before, and it lifts a little more of the guilt that weighs on him.  He smiles softly.

 

“Thank you Haru.  I know I don’t deserve the chance so...thank you.  And I’m sure Asami-san will do a good job of explaining things, but I want to talk to you about one more thing before I start asking questions.  It’s really touchy, and I don’t want you to be upset anymore, but I really think you need to know, and I don’t want you to think that  I think of you this way, because I  don’t .   At all .  But there’s…”  His smile fades but he keeps his gaze locked with Haru’s, hoping he can see that there is no malice in his eyes.  “There’s this rumor...going around...that you...that you…”  Kaito bites his lip as he struggles with the words.  “That you...are w-w-whoring yourself out to some rich CEO in order to get money for your degree.  And I don’t believe it for one second, but I thought that you should know because that’s why I thought Asami-san had paid for the scholarships, but I really don’t believe it!”  His last sentence is so hurried that all the words string together and are barely discernable.

 

Ice floods through Haru’s veins as he goes absolutely white, his shadowed eyes locked on Kaito. For a moment, he can’t breathe. The idea of it just hollows him out. It was bad enough when he thought just Kaito believed those things, but...there are actual  rumors  about him, hateful, awful ones. A torn, choked breath escapes him. How many people are talking about him? Speculating? Spreading horrible things?

 

He sucks in another sickening breath. What if his professors think that too? His breath comes faster and faster, and all he can do is stare, his thoughts racing with the knowledge that he’ll have to face all those people again.

 

“Haru.” Asami covers Haru’s hand with his own and squeezes it gently. Haru looks at him, his eyes wide and stricken, his pain palpable to Asami in a way he’s felt with no one else to such a degree. Even Akihito is not as easy for him to read. A flash of real anger rises up inside him. Part of him wishes he could fight all the boy’s battles for him, but he understands (at least intellectually) that this wouldn’t really help Haru. This understanding does nothing to placate the beast inside him that roars to be unleashed upon those responsible for the sadness in Haru’s eyes. “It will always be true that people of lesser ability will look for petty reasons to explain away the success of those more talented than they, rather than admit that they are simply more deserving of the honors they achieve. There are students who are jealous of you. You may downplay your own brilliance in your mind, Haru...but you  are brilliant.” He glances at Kaito, who is nodding emphatically.

 

“It’s true,” he agrees when Asami nods at him a little. “Anybody’s who’s honest about it knows you’re the most brilliant graduate student in the Architecture program...even the ones who  aren’t honest about it know it, they just don’t say it out loud.”

 

Haru’s cheeks turn pink at the compliment and he smiles shyly at Kaito. Asami tilts Haru’s chin up on his fingertips and looks deeply into his eyes.

 

“Every honor you’ve received, every grant, scholarship, every good grade have been earned. Kirishima wants me to have you submit a design for the visitors’ center and retail section of the new vineyard in Osaka, and Kirishima is not one to suggest such a thing unless you’re really just that good. Have I ever been anything but truthful with you, even when that truth wasn’t easy?”

 

“No, Asami-sama,” whispers Haru.

 

“I don’t like to see you in pain, but if there were a valid reason for people to spread such rumors, I would be sitting here trying to help come up with a way to combat them. You can’t fight jealousy, sweet boy. You can only decide whether you’re going to let it keep you from achieving your goals or whether you’re going to continue to do your best in spite of petty jealousy. You  know  you haven’t whored your way into a scholarship. And if you have any doubts when I say I was not the person who contributed the scholarship money, I’ll have Kirishima give you copies of my financial records to prove it.”

 

“Or I can come punch people in the dick who say shit like that about you,” offers Akihito generously and quite sincerely. Haru laughs in spite of himself and looks like he feels much better. The sincere warmth and caring in the billionaire’s voice is impossible to miss. He glances at Kaito again.

 

“Thank you for telling us. It would probably have hurt Haru much worse to find out about these rumors from someone else at school a great deal more, especially if others had been present to overhear it. You’ve been forthcoming with us. Now I’ll return the favor. What would you like to know?”

 

Seeing the smile on Haru’s face and hearing the...love...in Asami’s voice, Kaito honestly begins to believe that Haru was telling the truth about their...relationship.  It helps open his mind, but it doesn’t answer any of his questions.  He runs a hand through his hair and smiles  shyly at the three people sitting across from him.

 

“Um...well...thank you for...being willing to talk to me.  I really appreciate that.  I know that I’ve upset you and Akihito and especially Haru, and it means a lot that you’re willing to look past that.  Um...I guess, my first question would be…  You just said that you don’t like to see Haru in pain, but I...I saw the marks on his back.  He said that...that you w-whipped him and hit him with a-a brush.  All those bruises and welts, they look...they look  really bad.  But Haru said that he asked you to do it.  That he enjoys it.  I can tell that you really do care about him, so if you don’t like seeing him in pain, why did you hit him?  And while I accept that this isn’t a-a-abuse, I’m not entirely sure I understand the difference.”

 

Asami thinks for a few moments. One of his hands rest lightly on Akihito’s knees. It’s an unconscious gesture, of casual affection, but is handy for the occasional squeeze of warning when Aki’s mouth gets ahead of his brain, which it’s been known to do. His other arm encircles Haru, keeping him close. It isn’t confining, but meant to comfort, although Haru probably wouldn’t mind either way!

 

“If you’ve ever been struck in anger,” says Asami slowly, “whether during a playground fight as a younger person, or by a loved one or authority figure or even a significant other during an altercation that grows heated...even just an open-handed slap, you’ll understand this analogy. It hurts a great deal more to be spoken to harshly and in anger, and stays with you a great deal longer. When someone whose opinion matters to you...classmates, friends, lovers, family...says something hurtful, we carry it as a bruise on our psyche for much longer than we’d carry a bruised cheek or a bloody nose. It causes  damage, whereas what I do to Haru and Aki does not. Ah!” He raises a finger chidingly when Kaito opens his mouth to protest. “The marks you saw on Haruki’s body are not of the severity you, in your ignorance, imagine. The welts are gone already. The bruises will fade in a few days. He’s taken no lasting harm from being whipped and spanked by me. He likes me to give them to him when we’re not going to see one another for a few days due to his school schedule. He wants the connection. I’ll grant you that we  do  often attribute shades of meaning to words such as ‘hurt’ and ‘pain’ that more mundane people do not. Yes, what I did hurt Haru, but it didn’t cause him pain. It brought him pleasure.”

 

Kaito still looks quite confused, so Asami casts about for another example and lifts his finger again when the poor boy would protest again.

 

“Here is another example. Acupressure is an ancient art. Some people put no stock in it, but I know that in the hands of a trained professional, it does work. There is a pressure point between your thumb and first finger that, when squeezed quite hard, can relieve a headache. It hurts to squeeze this spot, but it does help. Likewise, a professional massage therapist knows that the only way to get rid of the palpable knots a person can develop in their shoulders and the top of their backs is to apply intense pressure directly to those knots. That pain is sometimes excruciating, but it cannot be denied by anyone that it works. Even physical therapists must often cause pain in order to help a person heal. The hurt I give Haru and Aki is that kind of pain. It heals something inside them that grows...mm...atrophied and damaged when it is neglected. There then, is that a metaphor you can understand?”

 

Kaito cocks his head to the side and scratches at his scalp, brows knit as he tries to process the metaphors into something he can understand.  The last one definitely makes more sense than the first one had, but he’s still not sure he fully comprehends what Asami is trying to say.

 

“So...does that mean that everyone likes pain when it comes down to it?  That everyone likes being...hit?  Even you?  Even me?”  His frown deepening, Kaito looks down at his arm where it rests in his lap.  He raises it and sets in on the table in front of him.  Then he lifts his other hand and smacks his arm quite hard.  He winces and rubs at it, urging the sting away.  “Ow.  Yeah, that didn’t feel good.”

 

Haru can’t help it. He bursts out laughing, then claps a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh. I know you’re just trying to understand, but...it doesn’t quite work like  that , Kaito.” He gives Kaito a smile that’s much warmer now, and cocks his head a little. “It’s more of a mental thing, I think, and emotional. So, yeah, it creates a physical need, but if you don’t have that something inside of you that makes you want it, then I don’t think pain is going to be something you’ll just all of a sudden jump right into and love.” He leans his head against Asami’s shoulder and considers Kaito thoughtfully. “In some cases it’s a release, like I told you earlier, from all kinds of pent up feelings. And, I don’t mean to embarrass you, but it’s a turn on too.” Haru grins. “Oh, and not all of that kind of thing is so...dramatic.  Some stuff Asami-sama does doesn’t leave marks at all, not past a few minutes, and doesn’t hurt a lot either except maybe a little stinging. I think that’s the kind of the thing a whole lot of people might like once in a while.”

 

“Yeah,” says Akihito, “plus not everybody goes to massage therapists or goes for the acupressure thing, and I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who got off on physical therapy. I mean, not that I’m judging them if they do…”

 

Asami chuckles softly.

 

“Of course we’re oversimplifying things rather a lot,” he adds, “and Haru’s quite right. You were unfortunate enough to witness him changing clothes after one of our more intense little sessions. Most of the time what I do to them doesn’t leave either of them with that many visible signs.”

 

“But, even when it does, I like it,” Haru says, softly but firmly.

 

Feeling exceptionally silly after smacking himself, Kaito blushes furiously, a state which is not helped by Haru’s comment about being aroused when Asami gives him pain.  But it clears as something Asami said clicks in his head, and he starts to understand a little better.

 

“Wait, so it’s like the high you get after a workout session, when your muscles are sore and aching and you feel like you’ll never be able to walk or raise your arms again?”

 

“Yes,” Haru says excitedly. “It’s a lot like that! Like a runner’s high or something when you get to that floaty kind of feeling. It’s the best.” Haru blushes. “And then, well, there’s the other part of it too.  Workouts probably don’t make you feel, um…you know.”

 

“Haru-kun,” purrs Asami into his ear, “if you’re coming in your pants during your workouts, there’s a conversation we need to have about that. At a later date. But runner’s high is an excellent comparison. And seems to be something that makes sense to our confused young friend here. There’s a great deal more to it, of course. The desire to please another...that’s not something everyone has, but you see it, to a lesser degree, in the kind of housewife whose life truly is made most complete by caring for her family, her husband, and keeping their home tidy and well-stocked and their bellies full of good food. This sort of person grows less common as women grow less confined by the rules of an antiquated society, but people like that do still exist. They don’t have to be women, either.”

 

“I guess that sorta makes me a housewife,” says Akihito, remarkably placidly to those present who know him, and with a thoughtful expression on his face. “I mean, I’m not as submissive as Haru, but I keep Asami’s house clean and I do most of the cooking, because I swear the man would live on scotch and bar snacks if I didn’t. I never really thought about it like Asami said until just now, but...yeah, it makes me happy when people like the food I cook, and we all sit down together and have dinner. It’s cool.” He glances at Asami with a faint flush to his cheeks, from under his eyelashes, and shrugs one shoulder in what looks like some kind of concession. Asami tightens the hand on Akihito’s knee a little and smiles. Then he looks at Kaito.

 

“Is there anything else you’d like to ask?”

 

“Well,”  Kaito starts slowly, idly drawing a design on the table with his fingers.  “I guess I can understand how the endorphin high would be like a release.  I always feel better and more relaxed after a long workout, and it helps me think clearer.  Not sure how it could be arousing, but I’ve heard about soldiers getting erections after a battle because of all the adrenaline running through their bodies, so I guess it’s kinda like that?  And, I understand the desire to make someone happy.  My grandma’s like that.  If you don’t eat everything she puts in front of you she’ll end up calling you everyday for a month to make sure you aren’t starving to death.”  He chuckles softly.  “So, I understand that Haru and Akihito  want you to hurt them because it makes them feel better.  Still not sure how crying makes you feel  better, but I can accept that I might not get that part simply because it doesn’t do that for  me .”  He looks up at Asami, not nearly as afraid of the man as he had been before.  “So then, what do you get out of it?  Do you take turns?  Like, one night you hit Haru and Akihito until they cry, and the next night they hit you?”

 

Asami throws his head back and laughs at the horrified expression on Haru’s face.

 

“Oh, you’re going to give poor Haru an aneurysm! No. There are people who do what you’re saying. Our friends Feilong and Yoh are that way. They take turns, because they both like bottoming and topping. You’ve probably heard that term before. Gay men use it to represent who gives and who receives during sex. But in BDSM we also use it to designates who plays the part of the Dominant partner and who the submissive. It isn’t that way with us. I am always the Dominant, and Haru and Aki are always submissive...to a degree, at any rate. There aren’t any hard and fast rules about who plays what part. It’s what works for each individual person, and for each relationship. I don’t enjoy subbing. It doesn’t suit my personality.”

 

Akihito snorts at this and it surprises a giggle from Haru, who claps his hand over his mouth. Asami looks sternly at Akihito, who returns the stern gaze in an entirely unconvincing manner.

 

“There are depths of Dominance and submission,” continues Asami, using their reactions as an excellent segue. “Some people only go so far as to enjoy a little kinky play in bed, as part of foreplay. We tend to call these people simply tops and bottoms. Dominant and submissive generally implies a deeper level of voluntary power exchange. One person shows more obedience to the other, treats them with a certain level of respect, while the other takes control of the play in an agreed-upon manner and sometimes may give the submissive certain rules to follow. This may or may not extend outside the bedroom. Akihito, for example, isn’t very submissive outside of that, but in bed he can be very submissive indeed. There are those who take this exchange of power to a very deep level indeed, those who consider their relationship more like that between a Master and a slave, where the slave gives the Master the right to make a great many choices for them. Therein lies the key, however. They  give the Master this power. And they have the ability to take it back, to change their minds at any time, and in that way it differs a great deal from a real Master and slave relationship. As Tops or Dominants or Masters, we are nothing until a submissive gives us the power. There are those who forget this, I won’t lie. But Kaito, there are abusive assholes in vanilla relationships as well. BDSM doesn’t predispose a person to become abusive. There are domineering, abusive personality types who are drawn to it, but they’re not the majority.”

 

“Wait, wait,”  Kaito shakes his head a little and a peculiar, almost green shade colors his face.  “So...is that what Haru and Akihito are to you?  Your sl...slaves?”  His voice is barely a whisper and he starts to shake a bit, the fear returning.

 

Akihito laughs this time.

 

“Oh geez, no. I’d be a horrible slave. I’m a smartass. I never like to keep my mouth shut or...or follow a bunch of rules...or sit at his feet or anything like that. Asami’s pretty great at letting each of us get the...um....level of submission, I guess? That we want out of it. And look, being a slave in this lifestyle thing? It’s  nothing like being a slave in...times and places where slavery was a real thing. Not like it at  all so stop thinking that right now, cause I can see you do it and I’m still happy to punch you in the dick if you’re gonna get all crazy on us again!”

 

Asami smiles benignly at Akihito and covers his mouth with his hand. It’s obvious that Aki bites him at this point, because the smile sharpens a bit, but it doesn’t go away.

 

“Nobody is punching anyone. However, Akihito’s point is valid. The only similarity between a lifestyle Master/slave relationship and, say, a Colonial plantation owner’s to their slaves is that we use the same words for the two.”

 

Haru goes a little pink and can’t quite meet Kaito’s eyes. Just when he thinks this can’t get any more excruciatingly embarrassing…

 

It’s not that he’s ashamed of the relationship he has with Asami, but even saying this kind of stuff out loud is  hard , even if it was just him and Asami-sama and Aki talking, it wouldn’t be  easy . But with Kaito, who he doesn’t know very well, and who has gone from being completely freaked out to what he thinks is probably mildly freaked out, if he’s lucky, Haru finds it really difficult to explain. He’s not as good as Asami is at putting things well, or as confident as Akihito, but he does want Kaito to understand, even if he still fears that it  will  turn out to be too much for Kaito to take.

 

If it is, then that’s too bad, but I don’t care.  Now that it’s out in the open, there’s nothing for it, and he’s not hiding anything. Haru steels himself and looks Kaito squarely in the eyes. “He’s right,” Haru says softly. “And, really, that word or  idea , it means different things to different people. And it  is voluntary. All of it. What Asami-sama said about some people liking to please others, it’s like that, honestly, but taken a little further...or a lot further. But...I think that’s the heart of it...wanting to please someone that much, to show it in ways, to an extent, that most people usually don’t. It’s...I just...with Asami-sama that kind of relationship  feels  right. It...it fills up some need inside of me that I don’t even know how to describe. But...it makes me feel safe and...and cared for, and really happy and good inside when I feel like I  have  pleased him.”

 

The emotion, the  surety in Haru’s eyes startles Kaito.  He recognizes the look.  It’s the same one Haru has when he’s drawing.  Like, no matter what happens, what the teachers or other students say, or what people think of the design initially, Haru knows exactly what he’s doing and he knows it’s right.  And Kaito knows from experience that when Haru gets that particular look in his eyes, it’s usually best to leave the subject alone.  Seeing something so familiar, so...Haru...Kaito finally starts to realize just how wrong he’s been about everything.  He nods at Haru and smiles.

 

“Okay.  I don’t get it.”  When Haru opens his mouth to try and explain further, Kaito holds up a hand and stops him.  “I think that if someone were to try and make me crawl on the floor, or bend over so they could hit me, or ask for permission to do  anything , I would,”  He winks at Akihito.  “Punch them in the dick.  But, if that’s what works for you, and you still have the freedom to leave at anytime without repercussions, then…”  He sighs heavily and lets the fear of the word ‘slave’ slip away.  “Then I guess that’s cool.  I still don’t get it, and I honestly might not  ever understand that part, but if it makes you happy then...who am I to judge?”  Kaito smiles again when he sees the relief in Haru’s eyes.  “Can I still ask a few questions though?”  Asami nods.  “In abusive relationships, and again, I know that this isn’t one, but I still gotta ask...the abuse usually happens when the abuser is angry, either at the person they are hurting or at the world in general, and I know that when  I’m mad, I usually go down to the gym and hit the sandbags for a few hours, to let off some steam.  If...If you have two people who are not only willing to let you hit them, but actually  want you to, what’s to stop you from doing so out of anger?  I mean, I imagine that in order to do what you do  safely you have to have some amazing will power, or at least control, but nobody’s perfect.  And I would bet everything I own that you could take down both Haru and Akihito even if you were tied up and blindfolded.  So...please don’t be mad Haru...how do you keep them safe from...from  you ?”

 

“It’s a good question,” says Asami, raising a finger to stop Haru from hotly protesting on his behalf. “And as I mentioned before, there  are those who would take advantage of a submissive that way. Haruki is devoted enough in his submission that he’d probably let me spank or whip him while I was angry, if I were that sort of person. I believe he’d only allow it to happen  once,  however. There’s nothing in him that wishes to be  abused.  To answer your questions though, a Dominant involved in a BDSM relationship had damn well better be responsible enough to never think of picking up an implement and using it on his or her sub when angry. I’ll never allow myself near our play room or any sort of toy when I’m angry. If I haven’t got enough self control to promise that, then I have no business calling myself his Master. I’ve promised them I won’t, and they have to promise me in return that they won’t settle for being harmed either. That’s one of the many things safewords are for.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Kaito lets it out slowly and nods, thinking.

 

“So, a safeword is something that Haru, or Akihito, can say if they want you to stop whatever it is you’re doing, and you  have to do it, right?”  When Asami nods, Kaito presses forward.  “What happens when they say it?  I mean, after.  Like…”  Kaito squirms in his seat and his face scrunches up in obvious discomfort.  “Do they...Haru and Akihito...uh...get...p-punished for making you stop, since you’re the Master and all?”

 

“No, never,” says Asami solemnly. “As a matter of fact, punishment is extremely rare in our relationships. They’re grown men, you see. I don’t have any desire to be their father. There are people for whom that dynamic works, but it’s not what excites me. I’m proud that they are two self-reliant, intelligent, independent young men who nevertheless give me some measure of obedience because they believe I’m worthy of it. I don’t want to run their lives. For one thing, my own is quite busy enough, and for another, I don’t know how to do the things they do. They’re much better at their lives than I would be. In our arrangement, punishment is reserved only for when someone does something exceptionally foolish that could put their health or life at risk. Drinking and driving or drug use, for example. Or possibly working way too hard and not getting enough rest, to the point of illness. They’re free to speak their minds, to disagree with me, to be late for supper because of work or a project taking longer than expected. Safewords are sacrosanct, and will always be respected, and there will never be consequences for using one.  A submissive has to know that their safeword will be respected and they can’t have any fears when it comes to using it. They can’t be hesitant. If they’re afraid their Dominant will punish them or be angry at them for using it, they’ll hesitate to use it when they need to.”

 

“That’s good.”  Kaito sighs a bit in relief, feeling immensely better about the entire situation after hearing Asami lay it all out so plainly.  He’s answered all of his questions, and everything makes sense.  For the most part.  “Okay, let me just make sure I understand everything.  Asami-san, you’re the Dominant, Haru and Akihito are your submissives.  Haru and Akihito are boyfriends, and you’re their Master.  You hit them when they ask you to, they cry, fun-times ensue, and then everybody is happy.  If somebody doesn’t want something, they say their safeword and you stop.  Nobody gets hurt...well…”  A faint blush begins to show on Kaito cheeks and he clears his throat.  “Nobody gets  damaged , and at the end of the day, anyone can just walk away, say they’re done, and no one can stop them.  Haru’s not being abused, or blackmailed, or taken advantage of.  It’s all consensual and everyone gets off on it.”  He looks at Haru as a thought dawns on him and he grins wickedly.  “Wait a minute, so when Taro flicked his brush towel at your ass last week, that blush wasn’t because you were  angry was it?”

 

“H-huh? No…” Haru stammers. “I mean, I wasn’t blushing!” He goes deep red right on cue when everyone starts chuckling. “I wasn’t! I just...I was already sore, and it  stung , and I...I was just  startled !” He sits back and crosses his arms, a pout settling across his face.

 

Aki sits up straight and tries his new stern look on Haru.

 

“Yeah? You lettin’ some strange guy spank you in class now, Haru-kun? Cause I might have something to say to you about that!”

 

“Aki!” Haru protests the teasing, his color deepening to a truly alarming shade. He throws a reproachful look at Kaito too. “You know nobody spanked me!” His pout returns, and he mutters under his breath, “But if you don’t stop teasing me, I might tell Asami-sama something that will get  you  spanked.”

 

Aki wriggles out from under Asami’s hand and crawls around Asami to Haru’s other side, where he wraps his arms around his boyfriend and kisses up the side of his neck.

 

“You know what tattletales get,” he mutters, winking at Kaito. Asami chuckles softly. He glances at his watch and considers the expressions on the faces of all three young men. Kaito may never be a convert to their side of things, but he thinks they’ve helped the young man understand as well as he’s  able to.

 

“It’s getting rather late,” he says, interrupting Akihito’s rather single minded attack on the sensitive places along the side of Haru’s throat and under his ear. Haru’s trying to ignore him, but one of the adorable, helpless sounds he makes that Asami really likes manages to escape and it makes him want to drag Haru home with him and force more of those sounds from his throat. But it’s a school night, and Haru was tired long before this confrontation began. He climbs to his feet, mentally mapping the square footage of the tiny apartment and considering whether a  very  small dinette set might fit. “I’ll leave you boys to say good night. Not too much longer, Haru, all right?”

 

“Wait!  Asami-san?”  Kaito stands and smiles at the billionaire, bowing slightly, mischief still dancing in his eyes.  “Thank you so much for talking to me and not shooting me.  If I could ask one last question.  Could I have your permission to ask Haru and Akihito on a date?”  He pauses for a moment to take in the shocked looks on Haru and Aki’s faces before raising his head and continuing.  “My girlfriend would love to meet them.”

 

“It’s thoughtful of you to ask me, but it’s not necessary. Of course you can, but you’re allowed to just ask them if they’d like to go. They don’t have to have permission, they just clear extra activities with all of us so that nobody’s plans interfere with time we’ve set aside to spend together. I think it sounds like an excellent idea.”

 

He kisses Akihito and Haru good night, shakes Kaito’s hand, and takes his leave.

 

Kaito turns to Haru and covers his mouth to stifle his laugh.

 

“What do you say Haru?  Wanna go on a date with me and Saya?  You know, after Akihito spanks you.”  He can’t hold it in anymore and kneels back on the floor laughing, letting all the stress and tension of the last few hours melt away.  “Oh my god!  That is not a phrase I  ever thought I would say.”  Tears begin to roll down his face as he holds his stomach and laughs.

 

After a few moments, Akihito begins to giggle and before long Haru joins him and all three of them are laughing.  Kaito wipes the tears from his eyes when his laughter begins to die down, and stands again, taking his keys and phone from the table.

 

“Okay Haru.  I’m gonna head home.  I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”  He runs a hand through his hair and his smile turns a little sad.  “Sorry again about butting into your private life.  I really was an ass to you and your...uh...lovers.  But you and Akihito really should go out with me and Saya sometime.  And if…”  Kaito takes a deep breath.  “If you ever need help hiding your marks so this sort of thing doesn’t happen again, or if anyone in the department starts talking crap about you, just let me know.  I can keep watch in the locker room or,”  He smiles again, wider this time, and his eyes hold none of the fear and confusion from before.  “Or I can help Akihito punch them all in the dick.”

 

Haru’s eyes shine with gratitude. “Thank you. I really mean it. Thank you for what you tried to do, and for...being okay with this.” He grins. “Or as much as you can be. It’s a lot to take in. I don’t think any dick punching will be necessary, though.” Haru screws up his face. “Though, after tonight, anything is possible, I guess.”

 

“No,” says Akihito firmly. “No, I’m drawing a line. Dick torture is just not one of my kinks. You two freaks just keep that shit to yourselves!”

 

“YOU were the one threatening to punch people in the…” Haru protests. Akihito shuts him the hell up the best way he knows how, then grins at Kaito.

 

“I think it’d be cool to go out with you and your girlfriend. If we can make it somewhere out of the way a little, or keep it low key, that’d be cool. Haru hasn’t decided he’s ready to be, you know, out and stuff, and my boss is pretty  eh  about homosexuality. But yeah. We don’t get to go out and do just normal couple stuff much. It’d be fun. So it’s late and my assignment isn’t over, the one a few blocks from here. Okay if I crash with you Haru?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

 

“Oh for pete’s sake you two, get a room.”  They turn and look at Kaito with identical expressions.  “Oh right.  This  is your room.  Well then!  I guess that’s my cue to leave.”  He grabs Haru’s hand and pulls him forward, hugging him tightly, and Haru returns the hug.  When he pulls away, he looks right into Haru’s eyes.  “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, or anything you need help with, or anything bothering you at all, just call me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”  They’re the same words he spoke when he first arrived at Haru’s apartment, but this time, they have knowledge and far more meaning behind them.  “I mean it.”  He steps back and gives a mock salute to Akihito.  “It was nice to meet you Akihito.  I’ll brainstorm with Haru about some places we can go that are low key.  Anyway, you two have fun!  See you tomorrow Haru.  Later!”  With a final wave and a smile, Kaito walks out the door.

 

“You okay?” Aki asks softly, stepping back to look searchingly into Haru’s eyes, looking for any hint of trouble still lurking there. “Tonight sucked for you. It would have been worse for me if it was people I knew, but I’ve already told my friends from school, and I know they’re cool with things, so it still wouldn’t be as bad if something like this happened to me.” 

 

“I thought I was going to have a heart attack.” Haru punches Akihito lightly when he starts snickering. “Seriously! I was scared out of my wits when he started calling the cops. I can’t believe it turned out so well.”

 

He makes a soft sound of contentment when Akihito hugs him close, and then he breaks into a huge yawn. He doesn’t protest when Akihito laughs softly and pulls him to the futon, strips him down, and tucks him into bed with a kiss and a promise to be back as soon as his assignment is finished. This time, Haru falls asleep instantly and doesn’t wake up until much later the next day.


	19. Revenge - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shadow from the recent past comes back to exact revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the one to follow are extremely dark! They contain extremely non-consensual UNSAFE BDSM practice which in most cases doesn't even count as BDSM but constitutes nothing more than actual torture. DO NOT try the things contained in this part of the series at home. Or anywhere. With anyone. Pretend kidnappings can be fun. Nothing about this is fun. It is dark and grim and in no way meant to portray something actual people should do to other actual people.
> 
> Seriously.

The boy is one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. As he  
hungrily drinks in the footage his private investigator has brought him,  
he muses to himself that it’s going to be more delicious than he’d  
initially dreamed to bring that bastard, Asami, down. He can’t believe  
he’d forgotten Haruki’s fey-like quality, his dewy skin and luminous  
blue eyes. How sweet the boy’s smile is. He won’t forget again, and  
won’t rest until he has the boy at his feet, looking up at him with the  
same eager devotion he’d bestowed upon the unworthy slime he pretends to  
be devoted to. Haruki merely bides his time until a true master comes  
along. He smiles as he watches the young man trotting across campus, a  
heavy bag over his shoulder, waving at some friends. He joins with them  
and they continue on together, finally disappearing into the Arts  
building. It’s really going to be a shame to have to sell him, once he’s  
brought little Haru to heel. But it’s the only way Asami’s humiliation  
will be complete.

He switches to the other footage and his mouth waters anew. Ah, young  
Takaba Akihito. Another beautiful boy, fair where the other is dark. His  
smile just as bright, his eyes just as expressive. He doesn’t think he’s  
ever looked forward to anything as much as he’s looking forward to  
stealing them from under Asami’s nose, to twisting their loyalties and  
devotion until _he_ is the light in their bright eyes. And to the  
horror and fear they feel when they go up on the auction block, naked  
and alone, terrified....it will be worth letting them go to see the  
expressions on their faces. To capture them on film and then to mail  
that footage to his hated rival. Perhaps he can cajole their new owners  
into taking them on the spot once the paperwork is completed, just to  
enforce their new condition upon them. Pretty little boys like that  
always deserve a Dry Welcome. He feels his cock stiffen in his pants at  
the thought of them, bent over and screaming as a strange man who is now  
their owner forces his huge prick into their unlubricated little holes.  
Of watching it, drinking in the sight of their tears and pain, and of  
what it will do to Asami to be forced to watch it happen when he sends  
him the footage. The shrieks, the sobbing, the pleading...perfect.

He doesn’t realize he’s been speaking out loud until the private  
detective he’s engaged to help him find Asami’s two little slaves, a  
nondescript fellow by the name of Saito, clears his throat and then coughs.

"Here now, sir," he says, a horrified expression on his face and  
repugnance in his tone, "you didn’t say anything about something like  
that! What you’re talking about here, that’s not something I want any  
part of! Surely you can’t be serious. I mean, I’m a man of discretion,  
but if...if anything is to happen to these two young men, I’d feel it my  
responsibility to..."

"No, no, don’t worry," he says placatingly. "My business rival is quite  
the pervert. He keeps these two on leashes. I’m trying to get  
information on him to damage his reputation. I’m not going to do  
anything to anyone. Not at all. You’ve misunderstood. Come, I’ll get you  
your fee. You’ve done an admirable job, and I’ve got all the information  
I need from you..."

Saito looks rather skeptical, but lets himself be ushered out of the  
office and into the reception area, the desk there empty as he doesn’t  
actually employ a secretary of any kind. He opens a drawer in the desk  
and pulls out an envelope with one hand, holding it out to the investigator.

"Go on and count it, if you please. I want to be sure I’ve compensated  
you adequately for all your hard work..."

As Saito opens the envelope and removes the stack of bills inside, his  
greed overtaking his sense of outrage, he ceases to pay attention to  
what his current employer is doing, and doesn’t notice the silenced  
pistol also being pulled from the unused desk’s top drawer. He looks up  
in time for an expression of horror to begin to dawn on his homely face,  
his lips parting on some exclamation or plea for mercy. He dies before  
he can give it voice, a tiny dark hole appearing as if by magic between  
his eyebrows. He slumps silently to the floor.

Kenji Murakawa steps over the body, pulling a burner cell out of his  
pocket and firing off a message to one of his faithful servants to come  
and take care of a minor mess at the Ikebukuro office. He pats the  
pocket of his jacket which holds the flash drive containing personal  
data and habits along with daily- and class schedules for Ito Haruki and  
Takaba Akihito. After several months of planning since his humiliation  
at the Black Rose by that smug shit and his little pets, it is finally  
time to take his revenge. He makes a phone call, and the plan is put  
into place. The game is afoot.

Asami Ryuichi isn’t going to know what hit him.

***

"See you on Monday," Haru calls to his classmates. He feels a little  
guilty for turning down their invitation for drinks. But it’s finally  
Friday, and he hasn't seen Asami and Akihito in over a week. None of  
that matters now, though, because the whole weekend is wide open for the  
three of them to spend time together, and Haru is practically vibrating  
with eagerness. Asami has promised that he's cleared his schedule of all  
work-related activities, and Akihito has guaranteed the same. Even  
better, Akihito says that Asami has been dropping hints all week about  
some sort of surprise, and Akihito is convinced he's planned a weekend  
getaway for them.

He hefts his backpack onto his shoulder and climbs onto the train. His  
own little apartment is just two stops away from the university, but he  
has time to send a quick text to Akihito. He grins when a few seconds  
later Akihito texts him back.

_[Pack your swimsuit. I bet he takes us to one of his seaside hotels.]_

A few seconds later, his phone chirps again.

_[On second thought, skinny dipping could be fun.]_

Haru spends a good long moment thinking about that until he notices two  
schoolgirls across from him giggling behind their hands, and he realizes  
that he’s wearing what is probably a rather indecent grin. He turns red  
and stands up, moving closer to the door and swaying with the motion of  
the train until it reaches his stop.

He steps off the train and fires off a text.

_[Asami-sama is right. You are SUCH an exhibitionist.]_

The stairs are clogged with people coming and going, but Haru weaves  
between them and hits the street in good stride. His mental list of  
things to bring runs through his head, even though he'd already packed  
his weekend bag that morning. _Toiletries, a pair of jeans, a couple  
of shirts, underwear._ He grins. _A swimsuit. And maybe something  
nicer to wear just in case._

His phone chirps again.

_[You know you love it.]_

Haru laughs out loud, excusing himself as he steps over the legs of two  
guys sprawled out on the front steps of his building. He pushes the door  
to the small lobby open with his shoulder and groans when he sees the  
 _‘Out of Order'_ sign taped to the elevator door. At least the  
frequent outages help keep him in shape. Considering the stamina of his  
lovers, he needs all the help he can get.

He enters the narrow hall that leads to the stairwell, his thumbs flying  
as he composes a reply to Akihito. A rush of air hits his back as the  
foyer door opens again. He reaches for the stairwell door and looks back  
over his shoulder as he opens it, expecting to hold it open for whoever  
had come in behind him.

Instead of the polite exchange he imagines, the two men in the hallway  
rapidly approach him, grab his arms and hustle him further down the  
hallway to the door that leads to the back alley. The momentary shock  
renders Haru silent for a few seconds, but then he opens his mouth to  
shout and begins to struggle. His phone and pack fall to the floor. The  
larger man curses, and he pins Haru against him and clamps his hand over  
his mouth, his fingers digging cruelly into Haru's jaw.

Haru digs his heels in, but he’s shoved forward by the sheer force of  
the man's body. In desperation, Haru smashes his shoe down onto the  
man's instep and is rewarded with a howl of pain and anger. The iron  
grip around him loosens and he’s able to shove the man back into his  
partner. As they both stagger, Haru flies to the alley door, jerks it  
open, and runs into the narrow strip of ground that separates two buildings.

He hears the cars on the street at the end of it, he watches them  
streaming by. All he has to do is get there, and the sound of the door  
opening behind him impels his legs to pump even faster. He dashes out  
onto the sidewalk and almost collapses with relief.

A traffic cop stands by a black car with tinted windows that is parked  
by the curb, writing out a ticket. He turns as Haru runs up to him.

"Hey! I was just attacked. They're right behind--" The cop grins and  
seizes Haru, cutting off his breathless words as the car’s back door  
opens. He shoves Haru inside. When Haru tries to scramble out again,  
he’s pulled in deeper by thick, rough hands, and his exit is blocked as  
the big man who had chased him folds his body into the car, sandwiching  
Haru in between his unknown assailants.

A wide strip of duct tape is pressed over his mouth, silencing his  
frantic cries, and the man continues his assault by wrenching Haru's  
wrists behind his back and securing them with a hard plastic zip tie.

Still smiling, the cop closes the door. The other assailant opens the  
front door and slides into the seat, and the driver pulls away from the  
curb.

"Hey, boss." The man in the front seat speaks into his phone. "Yeah, we  
got the kid. I got his phone too, like you wanted. Eh, what? No, he's  
not crying. Did you want us to make him? Huh, what? Oh, uh, wait a  
minute." He twists around and uses his phone to snap a picture of Haru  
pressed back against the seat in wide-eyed fright, then taps awkwardly  
at his phone before holding it up to his ear again. "Did you get it?"

The man nods, as if the person on the other end can see him and grunts  
his assent to whatever is being said. The call ends and the man turns  
around to sneer.

"I'm supposed to tell you that we're taking you to your Master. He's  
gonna take real good care of you." The man scowls. "But that don't mean  
we won't knock you around some if you give us any trouble. Got it?"

An elbow jabs viciously into Haru's ribs.

"He said, _Got it?_ "

Haru nods jerkily. His eyes sting. He doesn't understand any of this.  
His Master? It doesn't make sense. They can't mean Asami-sama. Can they?  
Adrenaline-edged shock begins to give way to panic. This is really  
happening.

_What will Asami-sama and Aki think when I don't show up?_

Haru inhales and exhales harshly as his lungs work to breathe deeply.  
The tape clings to his mouth, making him feel as if he were suffocating.  
He can't get enough air. Faster and harder, he breathes through his  
nose, beginning to thrash as his self-control crumbles and the panic grows.

His fingers claw against the seat back, and his wrists twist against the  
plastic bonds. He hears angry voices, feels hands pinning him down cruelly.

"Shit! Use the stuff if you have to. All that commotion is gonna make me  
have a wreck!"

"No! The boss said only if it was absolutely necessary because he wants  
the kid awake and fresh when he gets there."

A loud crack sounds in the backseat, and after a moment, Haru realizes  
that it was the man’s large knuckles back-handing across his cheek. The  
pain blooms a moment later, shocking Haru out of his mad panic. Rough  
hands pull him back upright and shove him hard against the seat.

"No more of that." The man's unpleasant breath spills across Haru's face  
as he growls, "Or you won't like what happens next."

Haru stares forward numbly, until the clear sound of his phone chirping  
an incoming text comes from the front seat. _Aki._ He shuts his  
eyes tight, keeping the moisture contained. Will he ever see him again?

***

Akihito jogs down the steps of the magazine’s offices, his camera bag  
slung over his shoulder, phone in hand. He’s just been paid pretty  
handsomely for a series of shots he’d worked on all week, staking out a  
minor political figure coming and going from an illegal gambling den.  
The capper on that had been when he’d managed to get inside under the  
guise of delivering a pizza and gotten a few shots with his fancy new  
button camera of the actual games in progress. Maybe occasionally  
letting Asami spend a little money on him isn’t such a terrible thing.

He’s been thinking about what to do with the money. He’s had his eye on  
some sterling silver rings they have on display at the fetish store  
where they’ve occasionally shopped for toys and where Asami got Aki a  
pair of leather pants that match Haru’s for next time they go to the  
Black Rose, which is probably going to be tonight, before they go out of  
town for the rest of the weekend. The rings are hand-cast by a local  
artist, inlaid with delicately carved chain links. They do free  
engraving, and he’s thinking of having that done too. His and Asami’s  
name on Haru’s, Asami and Haru’s name on his, and his and Haru’s names  
on Asami’s.

Haru hasn’t answered his last text yet, so he fires off another.

_[What’s the matter? Embarrassed? You’ve been naked in front of more  
people than me!]_

He straps his camera bag securely to the back of his scooter and puts on  
his helmet, checking his phone before he starts it up to see if Haru has  
replied. He still hasn’t, and that’s a little weird. He can’t remember  
Haru _ever_ keeping him waiting when they’re having a text  
conversation, not without letting him know if he has to go for a while.  
He mounts the Vespa, still frowning, and checks again at the first  
traffic stop he comes to. Still nothing.

_[Haru? You okay?]_

************************************************************************************************

Murakawa looks his new acquisition up and down slowly. Haruki stands  
before him on the Turkish carpet of his newly-acquired property’s main  
room. There isn’t a lot of furniture, just the basics required for his  
comfort during the days it will take him to undo the damage done to the  
boys by Asami’s evil influence. He’ll recondition them to respond only  
to him, however long it takes, and only when he has them fully trained  
and devoted to him will he embark on the final stage of his plan.  
They’ll contact Asami of their own free will and express their contempt  
for him, and then they will be handed over to his contact in the flesh  
trade. They’ll bring him a pretty sum on the block, as lovely as they  
are. He’s going to have to be careful not to damage them too badly  
during their reconditioning. They’ll be worth more if they aren’t scarred.

Haruki’s lovely eyes are frightened, and he likes that, feels his cock  
stiffening a little at the sight of it, in fact. But there’s anger in  
them as well, and he can’t have that. He stands up slowly from his  
leather arm chair and strolls over to the boy where he stands, held  
firmly between two of Murakawa’s employees. His hands are bound securely  
behind his back with a zip tie, the fingers purpling a bit from the  
tight fit. He’ll have to remove it soon and replace it with the locking  
steel manacles he’s had commissioned especially for his purposes, but  
that will come in a short while. Duct tape covers Haru’s mouth, though  
he’s trying his best to shout through it anyway. Kenji runs the tip of  
his finger down Haru’s cheek to his throat. Haru tries to jerk away from  
his touch, but is held firm.

"I know you must be anxious to begin," he purrs softly. His finger  
trails down Haru’s chest, pausing to press against a nipple through his  
thin t-shirt. "But don’t worry. We won’t start without your beloved  
Akihito. He’ll be joining us soon." His finger pauses at Haru’s waist,  
then slowly travels over his groin. His fingers close over the boy’s  
unresponsive genitals through his pants and slowly begin to squeeze.  
Pain replaces the anger in the pretty blue eyes, and Kenji smiles  
gently, squeezing just a bit harder until Haru’s eyes start to water,  
then he lets go. Cruelly, he rips the duct tape away from the boy’s  
mouth. "What do you think of that?"

Haru hisses in pain at the sudden removal, but that doesn’t stop him  
from glaring at Murakawa. "I think you’re a walking dead man," Haru says  
with utter sincerity, trying to channel Asami’s steely aura and  
Akihito’s bravado, but despite his efforts, his voice trembles.  
Murakawa’s smirk mockingly acknowledges Haru’s tremulous words.

He _never_ expected to see this man again, not after the  
devastating set down Asami gave him. But everything that Asami told him  
about Murakawa comes back to to him now. His sense of vulnerability  
grows more huge with every passing second that Murakawa’s unsettling  
gaze crawls over him.

The throbbing in his hands reminds him of how effectively he’s bound.  
His balls ache dully from the minor abuse, and the sensation spreads  
into a leaden, horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. Whatever  
Murakawa has planned, it can’t be anything but horrific. The sick  
feeling worsens as the threat against Akihito sinks in. Haru shakes his  
head in denial. There’s no way Murakawa will get his hands on Akihito  
too. The wretchedness of that thought steals his breath away, and his  
thoughts spiral wildly as he tries to refute Murakawa’s claims.

The building that houses Asami-sama’s penthouse is too well-guarded. And  
Aki...he’s not like Haru. His schedule is unpredictable, and he would  
never be so unobservant to walk straight into an ambush like Haru so  
blindly did.

"You--you can’t touch, Akihito," Haru denies with shaky anger, not  
sounding convincing enough even to his own ears. "He’ll know something  
is wrong! He’ll tell Asami-sama, and Asami-sama will come, and then he’ll--"

"Shut up," Murakawa snaps, fury replacing the leer on his face. Haru’s  
face jerks to the side as Murakawa’s open palm makes contact with his  
cheek. The slap wasn’t terribly hard, but his already bruised cheekbone  
flares with pain again. "Shut up, stupid boy. Asami will know  
 _nothing_ , he will do _nothing_ , not unless I wish it. The  
sooner you accept that the better. That man’s arrogance will be his  
downfall. He’ll see what it means to cross me, to humiliate _me_.  
I’ll take what’s his and make it mine, and there will be _nothing_  
he can do. And _he’ll_ be exposed for the _pathetic_ fraud  
that he is."

Spittle flies into Haru’s face as Murakawa leans down, his mouth working  
furiously as his words lash out. "He doesn’t _deserve_ the  
honorific you give him, and I don’t want to hear you speak of him like  
that again. Do you understand me? Don’t speak his name _at all_."  
He grabs Haru by the front of the leather training collar Asami had  
given him and jerks him forward. "You’re _my_ slave now. You will  
give _me_ honor. Call _me_ Master."

Haru gapes in stunned dismay, but his fright slowly gives way as fierce  
indignation begins to burn in his chest. His hands curl into fists,  
bringing fresh pain to his bound wrists, but he barely notices. His gaze  
burns too, and a momentary fearlessness overtakes him.

"You’re the stupid one," he says defiantly. "You could _never_  
stand up to him. Never even _hope_ to compare to him." Haru’s eyes  
narrow. "And I’ll _never_ call you that. Asami-sama is my Master.  
And my Master will find you. And then he’ll kill you."

Haru’s head snaps to the side again when Murakawa lashes out with the  
back side of his hand this time. That blow was expected, but not the  
second one that drives into Haru’s midsection. It even catches his  
handlers off guard when he staggers and doubles over, dragging them with  
him. Haru doesn’t see the needle that pierces his neck, but when his  
head jerks up as he gasps for air, Murakawa is there, up close and  
personal. The repetitive flare of Murakawa’s nostrils as he struggles to  
regain control is almost mesmerizing. Haru’s thoughts turn fuzzy, and he  
barely comprehends the words of ominous promise Murakawa rasps into his  
ear. He wants to fight, to struggle, but his limbs are too heavy, and  
his thoughts too slow.

***

Haru knows he’s sleeping, his dreams still catching at his thoughts with  
clinging fingers, threatening to pull him deeper again. But he fights it  
because his dreams have been long and disquieting, filled with  
unpleasant things he can’t quite remember now, and he can hear the  
familiar sound of Akihito’s snuffling breathing. His consciousness  
floats higher, and his body begins to wake too. A soft of hum of  
awakening that makes his throat vibrate, and then a yawn. He wants to  
snuggle up to his lover’s warm body, the way they always do, and  
instinctively, he rolls to his side.

The shock of hard, cold metal on his skin makes his eyes fly open. They  
flutter shut again, against the unforgiving light he wasn’t expecting.  
He forces them open and sits up quickly, taking stock. He gasps, his  
skin gone even colder with sudden shock. He’s naked, completely naked,  
except for the cuffs around his wrists and ankles and the links of heavy  
chain that secure him to the metal cot he’s sitting on.

Haru stares down at his wrists with numb dread, but panic spawns quickly  
as he notes the absence of any locks and the presence of rough seams of  
welded metal. Everything that’s happened comes crashing back. Being  
taken from his home. All of Murakawa’s sick threats and promises.

Just for a moment, he lets himself imagine the worst; _never_ being  
found, being trapped forever and subjected to Murakawa disturbed  
fantasies. A heavy despair settles over him, constricting his chest with  
unbearable pressure.

But then Haru’s eyes fall on the mangled bits of leather that lie on the  
floor next to the cot. He gives a strangled cry and falls to his knees  
as he gathers up the pieces. Asami’s collar is mangled, cut and  
shredded, and even the small silver tag is scratched deeply,  
obliterating Asami’s name.

Haru’s fingers fly to his throat, and a guttural sob forces its way past  
his lips when he touches the ring of thick metal. The weight of it is  
impossible to ignore now that he’s aware of it. He searches the hateful  
collar with his fingers, until he finds an uneven seam like those on the  
cuffs, and he gives another choked sob.

Murakawa has _welded_ the collar onto his body. There’s no way to  
take it off. _No way._ Haru pulls at it anyway, denying the cold,  
brutal reality of it, denying Murakawa’s sick, whispered promises. He  
turns his attention to the chain connecting his ankle to the bed,  
frantically yanking, first with this hands and then with his leg,  
succeeding in nothing but causing himself pain.

The urge to scream and yell and fight against the chains until something  
gives, until someone comes, until he’s anywhere but here, wells up in  
Haru’s chest and throat. It’s surely pointless, he knows, but the urge  
grows harder to resist as the panic he’s trying hard to suppress  
unravels his control. Harsh whimpers slip unheeded from between tightly  
pressed lips that are white with fear.

_Asami-sama,_ he thinks. _Asami-sama will find me. Aki will tell  
him something is wrong and...Aki..._

Haru springs up and looks around wildly. His waking dream comes flooding  
back to him--the sound of Aki’s familiar breathing. But his small cell  
is empty of anything but his cot and him. The bars on the front of the  
small space look out on a bigger room, but there’s no one there.

He sags back onto the cot, legs shaky from the rush of adrenaline. And  
then hears it. Akihito’s patented wake up snuffle. The sounds he always  
makes when he’s on the verge of waking.

"No..." Haru sobs out, jangling as he runs to the bars of his cell. When  
he presses his face between them, he can just see the second cell in the  
large room. Another cot is fastened to it’s far wall. "No," he says  
again, as the bright, tousled head turns, and Aki’s sleeping face is  
exposed. He’s naked too, cuffed and chained. Haru’s fingers curl around  
the bars tightly, and he struggles to breathe past the tight ball of  
misery in his chest. " _Aki_ ," he gasps, and then again, louder.  
"Aki. Wake up. _Oh, God. Wake up._ "

***

He can hear someone calling his name, but dimly, as though they’re in  
another room, or he’s lying on the roof of Asami’s building as he’s done  
on an occasion or two and fallen asleep and someone on the roof of a  
neighboring building is trying to get his attention. His head hurts, and  
there’s a really terrible taste in his mouth, so he’d prefer to stay  
asleep and not wake up to find out what that’s about. The voice is  
insistent though, and the tone of it niggles at his brain. The sound  
ought to be important. Ought to mean something, he just can’t  
remember....Haru. Struggling against the cotton in his head and his  
mouth, he opens his eyes. Squinting because the light is harsh and way  
too bright and makes his headache about a million times worse.  
Disoriented, his raises his head and looks around for Haru.

There he is, on other side of what looks like a big concrete room,  
sitting on a nearly bare metal cot, looking pale and lost and  
frightened. And naked. Aki staggers to his feet to go to him, is brought  
up short by the drag against his left ankle. He looks down and sees the  
chain attached to the metal shackle, and everything comes rushing back  
to him. Haru not answering his texts, and how he’d finally gotten too  
worried to keep waiting. How he’d stopped to send a message to Asami  
about what he was doing because he’s learned the hard way too many times  
that it’s dumb not to let Asami know what’s up. Going by Haru’s place to  
check on him. Men in coveralls fixing the elevator, pointing him to the  
stairwell, then being shoved hard from behind and hustled out the back  
door and manhandled into a black car. Kicking and biting and spitting  
and then the prick of a needle in his arm...

"Haru," he cries hoarsely, wishing desperately for a drink of water.  
Haru stretches out to the extent his chain will reach, holding out his  
arm through the bars of his cell.

"Aki," he whimpers softly. Akihito reaches back, even though they’re way  
too far apart to have a chance at reaching each other. "What’s going on?"

"It’s Murakawa," whispers Haru bleakly. He’s got something clenched in  
his other hand, fist cradled protectively to his chest. Akihito  
recognizes Haru’s training collar. He takes in their surroundings a  
little more clearly now. They’re chained to metal cots which are bolted  
to the floor in individual cells. Outside the cells, which have  
apparently been recently constructed if the fresh grit on the floor  
around the places where the bars are sunk into the floor is any  
indication, the rest of the room looks like something out of a bad  
horror movie.

Some of it is recognizable BDSM equipment. A St. Andrew’s cross,  
Catherine wheel, stocks, a whipping post. But there’s also what looks  
like a rack and an Iron Maiden. There are heavy bullwhips and floggers  
on the walls. Paddles and canes that make the spit dry in his mouth.  
Knives and pincers and other things whose purpose he doesn’t want to  
know. He shivers as he takes it all in.

"He...arranged all this? Just to get back at Asami?"

"I think so," says Haru miserably. "He...he said he was going to make us  
call him M...Master. Oh _Aki!_ "

Akihito raises his chin at the sight of Haru’s misery. Hot anger drives  
the chill of fear from his bones.

"He’ll never get what he wants from us, Haru. Even if he hurts us enough  
to make us say what he wants to hear, it’s...it’s what’s inside that  
matters. I know that. And Asami does too. He’ll come, Haru. I sent him a  
message before I came to your place to look for you, told him you’d  
stopped answering me and I was worried. So he’ll know where to start  
looking. And he won’t stop until he finds us. You know he won’t!"

But as he looks around the room, at its total lack of windows and the  
thick concrete walls, and at the terrible things on the walls, he’s very  
afraid Asami won’t be able to find them fast enough.

"I know," Haru answers, barely above a whisper, but his distress shows  
in the strained lines of his face and in his worried gaze. He doesn’t  
ask Akihito _how_ Asami is ever going to find them. Murakawa seemed  
confident that he wouldn’t be able to, so he must have them well-hidden.  
But it does no good to say that kind of thing out loud. And Haru  
 _does_ have faith in Asami. Nobody is more capable of doing the  
impossible than him. So he _will_ come.

It’s just--Haru’s breath hitches a little as he remembers Murakawa’s  
creepy rant--there’s no telling what Murakawa will do to them before  
that. His eyes travel over the wall of implements outside their cells.  
It’s more than obvious that Murakawa doesn’t just want to play with  
them. He wants to _hurt_ them...break them.

"Hey," Akihito says more gently. "We’ll be okay. I promise. I’ve been in  
worse situations. Trust me."

The words squeeze Haru’s heart, and tears well up in his eyes in the  
face of Akihito’s tender, protective gaze. "I’m sorry," he says  
wretchedly. "This is all my fault. If I hadn’t run off to the Black Rose  
myself that first time, then none of this would have happened. He would  
never have even known who you were. I’m _so_ sorry, Aki."

"Haru," Akihito begins, but whatever he was going to say is cut off by  
laughter, and Haru has to muffle a moan of fearful revulsion when  
Murakawa steps into their line of sight.

Murakawa stares straight at him, a small smile playing about his lips,  
but it’s the violation of his possessive and greedy gaze that takes in  
every inch of his nakedness that makes Haru’s skin crawl. "You’re so  
right, Haru-kun. It must be fate, don’t you think? You were searching  
that night. And you found _me_. The Master you’ve always wanted."

"I don’t want you," Haru cries.

"Oh, but you do, my pretty little toy. You’ve just allowed yourself to  
be distracted, corrupted by that man. Unfaithful little slut that you  
are. But you wanted me, led me on, and then ran off at the snap of his  
fingers." Murakawa’s smile widens. "But, oh, don’t you worry, I’ll help  
you to remember your proper place at _my_ feet. We have all the  
time in the world."

Haru shudders, but he desperately tries to reason with Murakawa. "I’m  
 _sorry_. I’m sorry I ran off, but...but I didn’t mean to...to be  
rude. Please let us go. If you just let us go, let us go home...let Aki  
go, at least. _He_ didn’t do anything. _Oh, please._ We won’t  
say anything. Not to the police, not to anyone, and Asami-sama won’t  
come after you. He won’t--"

Murakawa’s howl of rage makes Haru flatten against the rough wall, his  
eyes round with startled fear. "I told you not to speak that name!"

Murakawa seems to struggle with himself, but after a several long  
seconds, his fingers unclench and he takes a deep breath and releases  
it. "I know you’re anxious to have my hands on you, but I’m not ready to  
punish you just yet. First you’ll pose for me.We’ll take some pretty  
pictures. They’ll make a wonderful memento of this...learning phase. And  
of course, that man needs to see the _proper_ way to mold my little  
slaves."

***

Akihito spits in Murakawa’s direction when he’s ordered to pose for the  
camera. The man laughs in a way that makes his stomach tie into knots.  
He strolls to Haru’s cage, but doesn’t open the door. Instead he  
crouches down and reaches through the bars, grasping the chain that  
binds Haru’s ankle to the cot. Standing, he casually yanks on the chain,  
causing Haru to fall heavily to the floor and cry out in pain. Horrified  
and sickened by the casual brutality, Akihito holds out his hands.

"Wait! Stop, you don’t have to hurt him anymore! I’ll do it!"

Murakawa’s satisfied smile infuriates him, and the realization that he’s  
going to be able to manipulate them with ease by using each other to  
force capitulation makes him feel nauseous. Then he has a thought. Maybe  
manipulation isn’t a one way street.

"Please sir," he says contritely, "please don’t hurt Haruki anymore. I’m  
very sorry. I’ll obey you. Forgive me?"

Haru sits up, rubbing the elbow he’d bashed on the hard concrete floor,  
and stares at Akihito in stunned surprise. Murakawa preens at Aki’s  
words, and doesn’t act a bit surprised. He considers it his due,  
believes in his own delusions so completely that he buys the act without  
a single qualm. Akihito winks at Haru and strikes the poses Murakawa  
demands while the camera clicks busily away. He wants to throw up when  
he thinks about what the man plans to do with the pictures, knows that  
Asami is probably going to see them, but there’s nothing he can do about  
that. And in placating their captor, he’s ensuring that Asami won’t be  
receiving pictures of them beaten and bloody. At least not yet.

Asami doesn’t usually let rage get in the way when he’s planning, but  
Aki knows that he and Haru may not have the luxury of a lot of time, so  
they need Asami at the top of his game. Though he can’t tell if Haru  
picks up on what he’s doing, his lover borrows a page from Aki’s book  
and meekly obeys the man’s instructions while he takes his "pretty  
pictures." He leaves them alone after he’s finished, chortling to  
himself about how much Asami’s going to appreciate his little gift. Aki  
looks up and searches the ceiling, locating cameras in all four corners  
of the room as well as one in the center. A genuine smile blooms across  
his face.

"What is it?" whispers Haru.

"There’s only one wire," he says back in a normal tone of voice.

"Okay. Aki please, I’m just really not in the mood for guessing games  
right now."

"I’m familiar with that kind of camera," replies Akihito with an  
apologetic wince. "It doesn’t come wired for sound. It’s an inexpensive  
surveillance model. He’d need a second wire if he had listening devices  
hooked up as well. He’ll be watching, or having other people do it, or  
else he’ll just watch the recorded footage when he feels like it, but he  
won’t be able to hear us unless he’s down here with us."

"O-oh," sighs Haru, laying down in his cot with an exhausted sigh.  
"That’s a relief. Aki?"

"Yeah?"

"I’m really scared."

"Me too."

****

He grows impatient fairly quickly when Akihito doesn’t get back to him  
after letting Asami know he’s going to check on Haru. Though it’s  
probably as simple as a battery malfunction or some such thing, Asami  
hadn’t tried to talk Akihito out of going. He’s glad Aki feels  
protective of Haru. It’s one of the many reason the relationship is  
working out so well. In fact, Asami had actually caught himself  
 _humming_ in the shower this morning and had been so shocked at  
himself when he’d realized it that he’d stood stock still with the hot  
water running unheeded over his body while he’d stared at himself in the  
shaving mirror, blinking in astonishment.

"You’re happy," he’d thought at himself. "You black-hearted, undeserving  
bastard. You’re so fucking happy you’re humming a thrice-damned show  
tune in the shower, you sap!" And he’d grinned at himself in response.

When an hour passes with no word, he texts Akihito to ask what the hell  
is the holdup. He’s bought them both matching bondage harnesses to wear  
to Black Rose tonight with his Mark embossed on the chest strap and  
can’t wait to show them to his boys. Haru will get wide-eyed and misty  
over it. Akihito will roll his eyes and make snide comments, but he’ll  
be secretly pleased with how hot he looks in the supple black leather  
and the way it feels snug and confining against his flesh. Akihito,  
however, does not reply. He calls both boys’ phones. When there is no  
answer, he begins to grow alarmed and calls Suoh to ask him to go to  
Haruki’s apartment to see what the problem is. He has a meeting in ten  
minutes with a Saudi Arabian executive he can’t afford to piss off at  
this point in a delicate negotiation, but it shouldn’t take long. He is,  
in fact, wrapping up a few last details when Suoh sends him a text  
message from Haru’s place.

_[They are not here. Their backpacks are.]_

Suoh doesn’t waste words, especially when time may be of the essence.  
Those two sentences are enough to let Asami know that something is very  
wrong. He knows he rushes the last minute or two of his conversation  
with Al Fayed, but some things are more important than business and  
politics.

The two abandoned backpacks in the foyer of Haru’s building are telling.  
Akihito’s Vespa is still parked on the street, and Asami has to take a  
few minutes to bribe an irritated traffic cop into ignoring its presence  
for a little longer. He makes arrangements for an employee to come and  
pick it up while he and Suoh check the building. Haru’s apartment is  
locked, the keys still tucked into an inside pocket of his backpack.  
Both cell phones are missing. As they come and go, Asami growing more  
and more furious as they search the building, a young man relaxing with  
a friend on the front steps looks up and catches his eye.

"You’re Haruki’s...friend, right?" he asks carefully. The hesitation  
before the word "friend" isn’t too noticeable, and the tiny wink the boy  
gives along with it tells Asami he’s well aware of the nature of said  
friendship.

"Yes," he says shortly. "Have you seen him today?"

"Oh yeah. Few hours ago he came rushing home. Looked pretty excited,  
didn’t stop to talk and he usually does. Couple guys I’ve never seen  
before went in behind him. I didn’t see them come back out. Kinda big  
guys, didn’t look real friendly. Thing is, even though I didn’t see ‘em  
come back out, I _did_ see ‘em again. Haru’s...um...this other kid  
I’ve seen visit a lot lately...I mean I’m sure it’s not..."

"They’re both mine," snaps Asami impatiently, not wanting to waste time  
listening to this apparently well-meaning young man try to reassure him  
that Haru isn’t cheating on him even though the young man obviously  
assumes he _is_. The kid’s eyes widen for a second, then he gives  
Asami two-thumbs up and hoots in appreciation.

"Dude, what I’d give to be _you!_ Those two are so _fine!_ Oh.  
Er...sorry. Anyway, the other....your other kid...he shows up a little  
later and there’s those two guys again, headed into the building behind  
 _him_. It struck me as a little weird is all. Is Haru okay? He’s a  
nice guy..."

"Could you describe them?" interrupts Asami tersely.

"Don’t you know what they loo...oh, the two strange dudes, you mean! Um.  
Yeah, I think so. They were about six..."

"Not to me, to a sketch artist," snaps Asami, clenching his fists in an  
effort to hold his temper.

"Ohh okay. Yeah sure, if you think it’ll help. Anything."

"Thank you." Asami gestures at Suoh to take down the young man’s contact  
information and yanks out his cell phone. Rage and fear hammer at his  
skull while he waits for the call to be answered. Try as he may, he can  
think of no _good_ reason for Haru and Aki to have disappeared like  
this. Unfortunately, there is a long list of bad reasons that all clamor  
in his brain at once.

"Kuroda," growls the voice on the other line. The prosecutor sounds  
annoyed, but since his line of work often deals with the dregs of  
humanity, this state of being is no surprise.

"Haruki and Akihito have been kidnapped," he says shortly, skipping the  
pleasantries.

"How do you know?" asks Kuroda shrewdly. They’ve known each other for  
quite some time, after all. Asami gives him the details, and Kuroda  
sighs wearily.

"I’m not saying you’re wrong. You know them, I won’t question your  
judgment. But Ryuichi, you know what my superiors will say. I can’t  
launch an official investigation until they’ve been missing for at least  
forty-eight hours. And unless you receive a ransom demand, I can’t up  
that timetable without revealing a lot more about our relationship and  
your personal information than you’d want my boss to know. You  
 _know_ that."

"I’m not stupid. That’s why you’re going to start an _un_ official  
investigation until that 48 hours has passed. You’ll be farther along  
when the time comes. Here’s the address."

He hears the pause when Kuroda opens his mouth to argue, but he sighs  
and promises to be there in fifteen minutes. They have, after all, known  
each other for a long time. Asami’s grateful that Kuroda takes him at  
his word, and believes him, and is willing to drop everything and come,  
even if it isn’t in an official capacity. He’ll remember to thank him  
properly when his boys are back in his arms, safe and sound.

After a gut-wrenching, frustrating, sleepless night and halfway through  
the next day with almost no information (the young man from the front  
steps is working with an independent sketch artist even as he stands by  
his desk staring bleakly out the window, mentally hammering at his brain  
for any scrap of an idea for another line of investigation to try),  
Kirishima rushes into his office, not even pausing after he knocks to  
wait for permission to enter. He hands Asami a plain manilla envelope.

His guts clench painfully and his throat closes so tightly he can’t  
breathe when he opens it and lets the photographs within slide out into  
his shaking fingers. He sinks into his chair when his legs threaten to  
collapse from under him at the sight of Akihito’s naked body, steel  
manacles gleaming dully at ankles, wrists and throat. He is behind bars  
in a small cell, chained to a small metal cot by one of the ankle  
shackles. Matching pictures of Haru follow. At first the pictures tell  
him nothing except that both boys appear to be, thankfully, relatively  
unhurt, for which he feels almost pathetically grateful. His lips twitch  
when he takes in the expression on Akihito’s face, the anger in his  
lovely hazel eyes apparent to anyone who knows him the way Asami does.  
He’s all right. But there’s no note, no zip drive with a recorded  
message, no magazine letters taped to a piece of paper. Nothing. Not a  
single clue as to their captor’s identi....

His eyes narrow as he looks more closely at one of the pictures of Haru.  
Clutched in the boy’s hand are the mangled pieces of Haru’s brown  
leather training collar. Yanking open his desk drawer, Asami takes out a  
magnifying glass. The brass tag with his name on it has been ferociously  
gouged with some sharp object. Just like that, all Asami’s questions as  
to which of his many enemies could have abducted his lovers are  
answered. He lifts his head and looks at Kirishima, who waits patiently  
beside his desk, looking tense and worried. Kei likes Aki and Haru.  
Asami’s lip curls and he snarls one word.

"Murakawa."

***

"Again, pet."

Murakawa’s hand cups Haru’s chin. His long fingers press into his jaw,  
tightening around the fragile bones. Haru doesn’t need the warning, not  
with the way Akihito is bound and displayed in the stark room. His  
cuffed wrists are raised above his head, attached to rings secured to  
the ceiling. A long bar spreads his ankles wide, uncomfortably so from  
what Haru can tell. His thighs are taut and strained, and the angle of  
the way he’s shackled makes Akihito bend forward slightly at the waist,  
exposing all his most tender parts. His mouth is clamped around the  
handle of a heavy, knotted flogger. The implied threat of the makeshift  
gag comes through loud and clear.

He’s a picture of vulnerability. The tension in his naked form  
highlights his defenselessness. It’s only his eyes that makes the  
situation at all bearable for Haru. Akihito doesn’t look like he  
 _feels vulnerable_. He doesn’t look scared, even though maybe he  
is. Surely he must be, but anytime they manage to catch each other’s  
gaze, Haru can feel Akihito’s determination, his protectiveness that  
fuels the anger that heats his gaze. Each look warms Haru too, and makes  
him just as determined to protect Akihito, in any way he can.

Haru nods, and Murakawa’s hand falls away. He steps back and flicks the  
rattan cane he holds in his right hand.

"Begin."

Haru drops into the first of the series of poses Murakawa has insisted  
he learn to his satisfaction. He’d taken great pleasure in mocking the  
positions that Asami had taught him, sneering that Haru’s form was  
sloppy, unappealing, and unskilled. He’d adjusted Haru to his  
satisfaction with rough touches and words, making him hold each position  
until his limbs began to tremble.

But it’s the poses that are nothing like what Asami had led him through  
in his training that make Haru’s skin crawl. They seem designed to  
humiliate, to drive home a sense of abject, hopeless submission, that  
perhaps, under Asami’s care, would not be so excruciating. Haru  
prostrates himself, shifts and twists and turns and exposes himself to  
Murakawa’s crawling gaze and tries not to let his revulsion show, though  
his skin burns with mortification each time.

The cameras on their tripods in various corners make it harder to  
endure. Haru can’t help but wonder if Murakawa is keeping a record for  
himself alone, or if he intends to share the footage with others. Maybe  
he even intends to taunt Asami with their degradation.

"Wider." Murakawa circles behind him. The tip of his cane slides up  
Haru’s spread thighs and lifts his testicles, first one side and then  
the other. "Yes, much better, pet. Show your Master your sweet little hole."

Haru’s chest swells with loathing and sorrow and eye-pricking anger. The  
pressure feels like it might crack his ribs, but he stays silent and  
breaths slowly through his nose, in an out, trying to distance himself  
from this lewd display. His fingers dig into his own flesh as he  
exhibits himself, hanging on to his self-possession by just a hair’s  
breadth of control.

"Now, Haru...thank your Master for teaching you so well," Murakawa says  
softly.

_Oh, God_. He can’t give Murakawa that. He just can’t. But there  
really isn’t a choice.

"Th--" Haru’s throat clicks as he tries to speak. He swallows and starts  
over. "Thank you, M--" Haru swallows again. "Murakawa-sama."

For a moment he doesn’t breathe. The room is silent. Will Murakawa  
accept his substitution?

Then Murakawa chuckles. "That will do for now, pet. After all, we have  
all the time in the world."

The cane moves from Haru’s testicles to his prod lightly at the  
vulnerable bud of tight, pink flesh.

Haru can’t help flinching, an involuntary recoil at the casual  
violation, and the cane slashes without warning across his upper thighs.

This cane--one of many from the display on the wall--isn’t the thickest  
there, but Murakawa doesn’t hold back, and a cruel welt springs up  
instantly on Haru’s soft skin. He cries out, then bites his lip  
instantly, fearing how Akihito will react.

Akihito wants to spit out the cursed flogger and bite off Murakawa’s  
smirking lips when he almost dances over to Aki in his pleased  
enthusiasm and unchains him from his excruciating position. He can see  
the angry red weal across the backs of Haru’s thighs and longs to paint  
an identical one across the center of the bastard’s disgusting face.  
Their places are traded, and Akihito listens to Murakawa’s instructions  
with dread. He hasn’t had the thorough grounding in the basics of slave  
positions that Haru has, and he eyes the nasty-looking flogger with  
trepidation as he thinks of the damage those hard little knots will  
probably do to Haru’s soft skin when he makes the mistakes he’s certain  
are inevitable.

Fear, in this case, turns out to be an excellent motivator. He’s paid  
enough attention to Haru’s lessons with Asami to recall the basics of  
the instruction, and watched very closely as Haru was shown the same  
positions he’s now required to take. His face burns with humiliation and  
shame at the obscenity of the ways he voluntarily shows this man all his  
most vulnerable and private places, but he keeps his eyes on Haru as  
much as he can and reminds himself why he’s doing this, why he’s  
cooperating when what he wants is to spit in the ugly, leering face.

There’s nothing handsome about Murakawa now, and his had been a shallow  
attractiveness when compared to Asami’s stunning masculine beauty to  
begin with. Now his insanity erases the last vestige of gentility from  
his features and renders him horrific. He breathes a sigh of relief when  
he touches his forehead to the floor, arching his back and lifting his  
ass towards the monster, fingers digging into his own tender skin to  
expose and reveal himself. He manages not to flinch when the cane’s tip  
pokes crudely at his anus, swallowing bile at his own terror.

He doesn’t think Murakawa’s noticed his atavistic fear of the canes he’s  
brandished at them so far, but he has no intention of letting his guard  
down. More than almost anything else he can see on the room’s shadowy  
walls, he fears that cane. It’s almost twice as thick as Asami’s and his  
terror of it paints perfectly gruesome imaginary images of himself bent  
over one of the benches along the walls with great bleeding gashes along  
his ass and thighs while Murakawa slashes at him over and over and he  
screams uselessly for mercy.

He’s made it all the way through his own "lesson" without bringing the  
cane’s stroke upon himself or the whip upon Haru, and sags visibly in  
relief when Murakawa prompts him to thank the man properly for his  
instruction the same way he’d prompted Haru. Aki bows his head in  
feigned submission to hide the expression on his face. His brain is  
racing madly.

He completely understands Haru’s instinctive revulsion at the thought of  
calling Murakawa by the title he reserves only for Asami. That word is  
very special to Haru, and it makes Aki’s heart ache for him to know that  
he’s not going to have a choice one of these times very soon and how  
devastating that’s going to be for him. But it doesn’t have the same  
meaning for Akihito at all. He doesn’t call Asami "Master," and isn’t  
likely to start. Murakawa doesn’t know that. Can he possibly be so  
deluded that he’d actually imagine Aki would be cowed this easily, this  
soon? He heaves a nervous breath and glances up at the monster from  
under his shaggy bangs.

"Thank you M-master," he stammers.

And he’s absolutely that deluded. He crows in delight and triumph,  
rushing to the camera to make sure he’s captured Akihito’s words,  
playing the last bit of footage back several times while he snickers and  
mutters to himself how perfect it is. Akihito raises his eyebrows and  
looks up at Haru, who stares back in disbelief. Because Murakawa’s back  
is to him, Aki lifts one finger and cranks it in a circle by his temple,  
the universal sign for a nutcase. It’s a good thing Haru’s mouth is  
stuffed with a handle, because he turns red in the face with the effort  
it costs him not to laugh. Aki relaxes a little more, fairly confident  
their actions have placated their captor once more.

He’s terribly, terribly wrong.

"Now then, my little pets," says Murakawa solemnly, returning to them  
and taking the flogger handle out of Haru’s mouth, letting it swing idly  
back and forth like a pendulum while he talks, "I’m afraid it’s time to  
get the first bit of unpleasantness out of the way."

He unchains Haru’s ankles but leaves his arms above his head, then  
directs Aki to stand facing Haru. His own hands are raised and his  
welded manacles attached to another length of suspended chain. His next  
move makes Akihito’s stomach clench with icy fear. Humming pleasantly to  
himself, he bends down and fastens tight leather cock rings around both  
boys’ balls and the base of their genitals.

At first the rings don’t feel any different from any other cock ring  
Aki’s felt before, but when he shifts a little, he gasps aloud in  
horror. Imbedded in the leather a tiny, fine wires that prick against  
his confined flesh when he moves. He doesn’t think it’s enough to draw  
blood, but it’s going to really start to chafe horribly it whatever  
"unpleasantness" he’s got planned makes it hard for them to stand still.  
Their predicament grows even worse when he connects the two rings with a  
short length of slender chain. Now if either of them moves, it will tug  
on the other’s cock ring and rub the tiny abrasive bits more cruelly  
against their most intimate parts. He tries not to whimper, and reads  
the same impulse in Haru’s wide eyes. He does his best to smile  
encouragingly. They can do this!

"It’s time to start punishing you for running away from me, Haruki, and  
you, Akihito, for helping him to do it. That’s going to be a lengthy  
process, as a great deal of punishment is required and I’m afraid you  
might not survive it if I gave it to you all at once, so it will be  
spaced out over the course of our time together. Only a dozen lashes  
this first time, because you were both so very good during your  
training!" he says gaily, as though granting them a great favor. He  
hasn’t put down the thick flogger with its knotted rawhide strands. Is  
in fact taking a couple of steps back and setting the terrifying thing  
spinning through the air with an ominous burr.

Now Akihito does whimper softly.

"Haru," he whispers, his voice choking in his throat. "I’m so sorry.  
I’ll try so hard not to move....but I....I....and it’s okay if you  
can’t. I won’t be mad. We can do this. I love you!"

"Aki, I--nnhhghh..." Haru grunts as the flogger lands on his upper back.  
The thud is instant and deeply bruising, and the ends of the long  
strands wrap around and cut into the tender skin of his armpit.

A second later, Murakawa fists a handful of his hair and yanks his head  
back, making his body sway. He and Akihito hiss as the circle of leather  
around their cocks abrades their flesh. "Attention on _me_ , pet."  
He smiles down at Haru’s wide eyes. "And that one was merely a warning.  
It doesn’t count."

"I’m sorry," Haru says, wincing as the hand in his hair tightens.

"You’re sorry, _what?_ " Murakawa prompts.

"I’m sorry...Murakawa-sama."

Murakawa smiles again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "Very well." He  
straightens and releases Haru, allowing him to get his balance before  
hefting the flogger again. Akihito’s anxious gaze makes his insides tremble.

He almost jerks when the knotted ends of the flogger trail over his  
shoulders, but he manages to stop himself, carefully holding himself  
completely still.

"Your skin marks wonderfully, Haru. I can’t wait to see it covered in my  
bruises and welts, marked utterly as mine."

_No,_ Haru thinks fiercely. _I’ll never be yours._

"Soon, you’ll beg for my touch." The flogger falls away from his back,  
and Haru takes a quick breath, trying to release his tension and brace  
himself again. But instead of hitting him, Murakawa moves around behind  
Akihito and meets Haru’s eyes. His arms pulls back as he readies to  
swing. "Won’t you, pet?"

Helplessly, Haru nods. "Yes," he whispers. "Yes, Murakawa-sama."

The flogger arcs down fast and hard, Murakawa’s eyes glittering with  
spite, and Akihito cries out. Haru bites his lip hard as their joined  
flesh flares with fresh pain. Another hard fall, and then another, and  
Akihito’s round, shocked eyes cut Haru to the core. Before, he can  
speak, Murakawa swings the flogger again. It lands across Akihito’s  
bottom, but Haru can see the strands wrap around his hips, cutting into  
the skin.

Akihito whimpers, trying not to make a sound. His knees are locked  
tightly, but it’s impossible to keep completely still. The strength of  
the blows throws him off balance, and they both gasp and choke back  
cries. Murakawa’s arm raises even higher for the fifth. Haru can’t help  
but process the morbid and hurried count as Murakawa’s nasty grin widens.

"Oh, wait! Please, Murakawa-sama...M--Master!" Haru cries with a deep  
pang in his heart, but Akihito is already lurching forward into him, a  
strangled cry on his lips as the cruel blow thuds against him. He  
ignores the pain the cock ring is inflicting. Haru can only see the pain  
in Akihito’s eyes. And even though he knows Akihito can take this and  
even more, Haru can’t stand it, seeing any fear and hurt at all in his  
beloved Aki’s eyes. And under the guilt of knowing his pain is Haru’s  
fault, it’s too unbearable. His words spill out. "Master, please. I’m  
sorry. Please punish _me_. I...I want you to. I...need it...deserve  
it. Aki was only doing what Asa---what he was made to do. It’s not his  
fault. It’s _my_ fault. Please, Master!"

"No!" yells Akihito in denial. He feels like he’s going to vomit, but he  
can count fine, and he’s only at five. He can feel something wet  
trickling down his side, his back, the curve of his bottom, and he knows  
damned well it’s not sweat. "No, it’s fine. It was my idea to come for  
you that night. I was the one who told, so _he_ would know where  
you were! Me!"

Their captor growls under his breath and the whip falls again. Akihito  
yowls in pain. He can’t see any good reason to try to hold back his  
reaction to it. It would only make the man hit him harder and this is  
awful enough as it is. His back and his ass feel like hamburger, even  
though he knows it’s not that bad, and that a dozen strokes with that  
evil thing won’t do , _that_ much damage, but it’s just so far  
outside his scope of knowledge.

Asami would never strike them this way, with something meant to damage  
their flesh. He would never strike this clumsily, taking no care to  
prevent the strands from wrapping around onto unintended areas. Murakawa  
doesn’t care. He’s doing this to hurt as much as possible. Even so,  
there is no way in hell Aki can let Haru take part of his beating for  
him. He refuses to call it punishment in his head. That’s not what this  
is. It’s torture, plain and simple. The man means to break them, slowly  
and as painfully as possible.

Murakawa frowns. Part of him admires his little slaves’ loyalty to one  
another, and another part of him is grateful for it, because it means he  
can manipulate them more easily, ensure their cooperation by threatening  
the safety of the other, but he doesn’t like it. His slaves don’t bond  
to one another. They compete with one another for his favor, biting and  
clawing and backstabbing one another to keep from being the one to earn  
his ire. He needs to break their bond, as surely as he needs to break  
their bond to the bastard Asami.

"That’s right, little Haruki. It’s entirely Akihito’s fault you’ll be  
being punished in a moment. If he’d kept his nose out of our business,  
all of this unpleasantness could have been avoided. Some people just  
don’t know when to mind their own business. But he will learn. I’ll  
teach him!" He grunts as he brings the flogger up from below, catching  
the underside of Akihito’s cheeks and digging the vicious knots into his  
thighs. He shrieks and leans into Haru, laying his head on the other  
boy’s shoulder, babbling out apologies. Frowning harder, Murakawa grabs  
him by the hair and jerks his head back, lashing him angrily up and down  
his back as fast and hard as he can at the slightly awkward angle,  
laying down the last strokes too fast for the boy to catch his breath.  
All he can do it jerk and squirm under the lashes, screaming in pain,  
and wrenching answering screams from Haru as the punishing, clever  
little cock rings do their diabolical work.

Gasping for breath and struggling to rise above the blazing agony that  
seems to encompass his whole body, Akihito straightens up and looks into  
Haru’s eyes as the flogger slashes down across his shoulders for the  
first time. He expects to see terror and pain, gulps in air and forces  
himself to stop screaming so he can be there for Haru while the monster  
does what he’s going to do no matter what either of them say. What he  
sees instead startles him. Haru is _angry_.

His eyes blaze with rage. He’s _shaking_ with fury he’s so angry.  
Murakawa chuckles with pleasure and coos to him that he’s right to be  
afraid, that he should be frightened, and Haru’s smart enough not to  
disabuse him of his notions, because Akihito’s pretty sure a Murakawa  
with his illusions shattered would be a very dangerous person indeed. He  
hits Haru even harder than he’d struck Aki, and the vicious little knots  
tear Haru’s flesh and the way the force of the blows shoves at their  
bodies causes seemingly endless torment to their genitals, and Haru  
screams in pain when the whip tears into him, but the cold, furious  
hatred in his eyes doesn’t waver. He bows his head when Murakawa  
finishes and murmurs softly, his voice raw and hoarse with screaming,

"Thank you for punishing me, Master."

There’s no emotion in it, and their tormentor chuckles to himself,  
pleased that he’s brought Haru so much closer to being broken to his  
will, because he is blind and stupid and doesn’t know the person he’s  
dealing with at all. Because when Haru thanks his Master for whipping  
him and means it, there is so much emotion in his voice you could power  
a small village with the brilliance of it. Akihito has seen it time and  
again. Their cooperation with their captor earns them another respite  
though, for the man ushers them both back to their cages and leaves them  
alone "for a while," he says, "to reflect upon your sins and recover a  
bit before we get back to work."

Haru sits on the edge of his cot with his head down, and Aki leans  
anxiously against the bars, longing to go to him, to comfort him, to be  
comforted.

"Haru," he whispers, "are you all right?"

Haru raises his head and looks at Aki from across the room, his gaze  
cold and unflinching.

"Let’s not wait for Asami-sama to come and save us," he says softly.  
"Let’s get the fuck out of here."

A hundred questions crowd into Aki’s mind about how they can do such a  
thing, but he doesn’t give any of them voice. His back feels like it’s  
on fire, and Haru’s looks like it feels the same.

"Yeah. And let’s take this fucker down."

Their eyes meet in perfect understanding, and then Haru’s shoulders  
slump in fatigue , his head hangs low. "How, though?"

Neither one of them says anything. The silence is depressing.  
Eventually, Haru raises his head. "He wants us to accept him as our  
Master. Right? If we can make him believe that we really respect him,  
that we _want_ to submit to him, then maybe he’ll let his guard down."

"It’s hard to believe he’d really be so stupid to believe that," Akihito  
says. "But he’s so full of himself, he probably _would_ buy it."

"We’ve got to be careful not to make it too unbelievable." Haru frowns  
and his shoulders slump even more. "We’ll have to keep calling him  
Master, though."

Akihito hums in agreement. "But _we_ know we don’t mean it. Don’t  
worry about _that_. Asami will understand. We’ll behave ourselves.  
We can be a _little_ reluctant, but no arguing or too much  
resisting when he’s making us do something. And we won’t try to talk him  
into letting us go. That means you don’t ask him to let _me_ go  
either, and vice versa. We’re in this together all the way, Haru."

Haru lowers his eyes to the floor, but he nods dejectedly to acknowledge  
Akihito.

" _Haru._ " The stern tone of Akihito’s voice makes Haru look up in  
surprise. "I don’t want to hear any more crap about this being your  
fault. You always blame yourself for stuff and go around feeling guilty  
for no reason."

"But I--"

" _Stop._ " Akihito’s eyes blaze at him. "I mean it, Haru. If you  
don’t quit it right now, _I’ll_ turn you over my knee the first  
chance I get and show you that I can spank just as hard as Asami can."

Haru stares at Akihito wide-eyed for a long moment, and then his lips  
twitch a little. Akihito’s burning expression softens, and a moment  
later, they’re both laughing.

It lifts the pall that has been weighing them down since they’d woken up  
in their cells. Haru began to believe that they really might be able to  
pull this off. "Okay, Aki-sama," his eyes twinkle at Akihito. "So what’s  
the plan? Get him to trust us, so he’ll let us off the chains at the  
same time? That might take too long, though."

Akihito looks down at the despised steel manacles on his wrists. His  
skin at the edges of the metal is already bruised and raw-looking. Then  
he looks up at Haru with a hard shine in his eyes.

"I don’t know if it matters that we still have the chains on as long as  
we’re sure he has the keys on him when we make our move...as long as  
we’re not chained __to anything except maybe each other...and  
there’s time when he unfastens us from stuff to move us. Let’s not worry  
about how to convince him to unchain us or whatever. I think that’d be  
too...transparent or whatever. Too obvious. But if we make sure not to  
pull or struggle when he’s moving us, he might not hold on as tight or  
hurry as quick to get us bolted back in place. What’d be really great  
would be if he’d move us both at the same time. I think I know what  
we’re going to have to do. You heard what he said, right? Telling you it  
was my fault you were getting punished? I think he doesn’t like it that  
we’re so close. I think he’s going to keep doing that. Trying to ...pit  
us against each other?"

Haru nods slowly. There’s a sour expression on his face, and it’s  
obvious he hates the idea, but he agrees.

"I wish..." he says with a sigh, "I wish we could prove to him how wrong  
he is. Show him our bond to Asami-sama and to each other can never be  
broken by someone like him. But all that would do would be to make him  
hurt us worse. And I couldn’t stand watching him hurt you, Aki."

"He’s...there are some people who are so fucked up...so broken you can’t  
fix them. This guy, Murakawa...he’s not just a bastard, or Asami’s  
enemy. He’s _crazy_. I wish that too. I wish we could spit in his  
face and show him how wrong he is, but it won’t work. He lives in  
crazyland, and truth wouldn’t matter to him. It’d just make him angrier,  
and you’re right. He’d hurt us more. Have you looked him in the eye? He  
doesn’t plan to kill us, but he...I think he would, if we pushed him  
over the edge, defied him too much. He could lose it that bad. Asami  
says dying for an ideal is stupid when you can live to fight for it  
another day, whatever it takes. Lie our asses off, that’s what it takes.  
So we...we have to let him come between us. Okay?"

"Okay. I hate it, but okay," sighs Haru.

"Look at it like the time Sultan Asami’s harem boys kept fighting and  
trying to get each other in trouble," jests Aki gently, trying to make  
Haru feel better. Haru’s lips twitch again and he nods a little.

"But we can’t make that seem too fast. He wouldn’t buy it. He...he may  
imagine Asami’s hold on us can’t be very strong because...we’re not  
afraid of him and stuff so that means he can’t have _really_  
mastered us. But he’s seen how close we are, so we’ll have to...start to  
fight slowly, you know?"

Akihito agrees. Haru’s thinking clearly now, and he hopes he is too, and  
that’s good. But he can feel his lover’s agony over what he feels is his  
betrayal of his vows to Asami. Haru feels to Akihito like an enormous  
hole has been physically gouged out of his heart and soul with a dull  
knife, like he is torn and bleeding. Their jailer has left the torn  
pieces of Haru’s training collar in the cell with him to torment Haru.  
"Throw them out of the cage, Haru," he says softly. Haru looks up at him  
with a frown. He has the pieces in his hands and his fingertip is softly  
stroking the little plaque with Asami’s name on it. His fingers close  
tightly around the pieces and his brows draw together mutinously as he  
pulls the pieces against his chest and his chin lifts.

"What?"

"You have to, and here’s why," says Aki sympathetically. "First, it will  
make _him_ happy. And second...Haru, you’re torturing yourself with  
them. Murakawa didn’t sever your contract with Asami and he _didn’t  
cut your collar_. He cut up a piece of leather. Your collar is in  
your heart anyway, and the piece of leather can be replaced. Holding it  
and petting it and thinking about it is just making you feel worse and  
worse about yourself and he’s counting on that. On using that pain to  
help break you. See?"

"Yes. I know you’re right," Haru says softly. Ï...I will throw it out."  
But still Haru hesitates, thinking of that moment when Asami-sama had  
told him he could keep it. His chest aches more than the broken skin of  
his back as he lets his thumb slide over the scarred metal one more time.

He understands it’s not the strip of leather that’s important, He truly  
does, but Haru can’t help his attachment. It makes his anger toward  
Murakawa roil beneath the surface of his battered body. He stands  
slowly, sucking in his breath as the raw welts tear and sting. The  
leather strips of the ruined collar dangle from his clenched fist.

If he’s going to do this, then he’ll at least try to make the most of it.

"I know you said he can’t hear us, but he’ll be watching, right? So  
you’re right, let’s give him something to think about."

Haru stands and turns toward Aki, taking an almost confrontational  
stance. His hands are clenched at his sides. His head lowered to glower  
at Akihito. "Do you really think he’s going to come?" He spits out the  
words as though he really means them, only his eyes beg Aki to  
understand. "He’s not ever going to be able to find us!" Haru lets his  
posture and gestures broaden, emphasizing the rising hysterical quality  
of his words. He waves his arms around, gesturing at their prison. "Do  
you think he’ll even know where to start? Murakawa was too quick to take  
us! Look how he tricked us! He would have been careful not to leave a  
trail!"

He pauses a moment and waits for it to sink in. It doesn’t take long, he  
can almost see Akihito mentally square his shoulders. His eyes narrow,  
and he jumps to his feet. "Don’t say that! He’ll come! I know he will!"

Haru shakes his head and swipes angrily at his eyes. The moisture there  
is real. "Maybe he would for you! But will he really bother for  
 _me?" Haru raises the collar and brandishes it. "He wouldn’t even  
give me a _real_ I don’t. I don’t mean it._ Haru’s throat  
tightens, but he can’t deny it, not now. Akihito takes another angry  
step forward. "Stop talking about him like that! You sound so selfish!  
Ungrateful! He’ll come for me no matter what!"

"Why did he let us be taken?!" It almost kills Haru to utter that line,  
but it sets up what he needs to do next. He only hopes Akihito never  
tells Asami-sama that he ever uttered it. Advancing on the bars of his  
cell, he looks at the shreds of the collar again, his face twisting with  
mixed emotions, and then he hurls the pieces toward Akihito.

Akihito’s shocked expression is good, and the way his hand comes up  
instinctively to block what falls far short of his cell. Whether it’s  
all genuine or not, Haru can’t tell. He watches it as though from a  
great distance, and then he collapses back on his cot, curls up with his  
back to the room, and sobs. That much isn’t faked at all. He’s drained  
and aching and wretched at the ugly things he had to say.

Every part of him aches to reach out to Akihito, to wrap himself up in  
him and never let go.

_Murakawa is going to pay for this. All of it. No matter what,_  
Haru promises himself.

***

Not for the first time, Murakawa wishes he’d had the basement wired for  
sound and not just video. He’d give anything to hear what his darling  
Haruki is saying to Akihito before he throws his collar at the other  
boy. Ah well. He’s stretched his finances quite thin in acquiring and  
outfitting this property, as well as on other aspects of his plan. He’d  
decided as long as he can keep an eye on them, hearing what they have to  
say was a luxury he could do without. Besides, if he hired the  
technician to come back and install a recording function into the  
system, he’d see the other renovations that were done to the dungeon  
after he’d left initially, and there’d be too great a risk of him seeing  
the boys, as there are few other secure places on the premises where he  
can hide them aside from where they’re currently being kept.

Idly, he wonders where Akihito’s collar is. He hadn’t been wearing it  
when he was taken. Still, he’s got a job whereas Haru is still a  
graduate student, so perhaps it’s simply not appropriate for him to wear  
it to work. He brightens. He’ll fetch Haru’s collar from the floor, then  
take it to the associate who does all of Murakawa’s leather work and  
have it duplicated and then send _both_ of them to Asami. It would  
be kind to leave him with a souvenir to remember them by, once they are  
gone.

He chortles to himself as he strolls to the stairs that descend to his  
little dungeon to fetch the torn pieces of leather. If Haru’s faith is  
so easily shaken, then the man can’t possibly have truly taken the time  
to bind the boys to him so that, even if given chance, they would not  
run. You have to hurt a slave badly enough in the very beginning that  
they will never think of trying to escape you. And he will, as soon as  
he’s completed his errand.

***

He spares the hapless young courier dangling in Suoh’s powerful grasp a  
short glance as he opens the package the boy has just brought him,  
wrapped in plain brown paper and without a return address. How he deals  
with the young man depends on what’s in the package...and his answers  
about it when Asami questions him.

When he folds back the tissue paper inside the box and withdraws the  
pieces of tattered brown leather, what he’s seeing doesn’t resolve  
itself immediately, because there are too many pieces of it to identify  
it instantly as Haru’s training collar. It’s the tag that finally does  
it for him. Or rather, the tags. He frowns at the pieces in his hands  
for a long time, fingertips gently rubbing over the scratched silver  
disks with his name engraved upon them, trying to make sense of why  
Murakawa has sent him two identical collars. There’s no blood on them,  
and if this were a message that something...final...has happened to  
them, he’s reasonably sure there would be. Akihito doesn’t own a collar  
like this, so to have a second one made to taunt Asami with makes no  
sense unless...

His lips curl up at the corners just a little. Murakawa doesn’t know  
that Akihito doesn’t own a collar. Whether he merely assumes Aki does  
have, or whether he’s been led to believe, it means that either he’s  
careless and arrogant or that Asami’s boys are actively able to mislead  
the man, and both eventualities are tiny kernels of good news in the  
midst of Asami’s waking nightmare. He rises and walks slowly towards the  
courier, who eeps in alarm at the look in his eye and begins to struggle  
wildly, pleading to be let go.

"Where did you get the package you just delivered here?" he asks pleasantly.

"Please Sir," babbles the courier, "I don’t know, I swear to you! It was  
left in the drop box outside our offices along with payment. I swear it!  
We never saw the person who dropped it off!"

Asami’s feral grin is full of teeth and the courier sprints out the door  
like a frightened rabbit when a nod prompts Suoh to let him go. Liu  
Feilong steps adroitly out of his way as he caroms off the wall on his  
way down the hall. The slender, elegant Chinese tong leader looks after  
him curiously.

"You didn’t torture that man without me did you?" he asks, gliding into  
the chair opposite Asami’s desk as Asami pours him a drink.

"No," says Asami absently, taking out his cell and placing a call. He  
rattles off the name of the company and its location at Kuroda when he  
answers the phone, asking if there’s a street cam in the vicinity with a  
good view of the drop box. He answers a few questions and hangs up. "But  
he might have been able to help anyway. Someone left a package for me in  
the company’s overnight drop box. Street cameras may have been able to  
record the person and vehicle. I seriously doubt Murakawa would have run  
the errand himself, but it’s a lead."

"What was in the package," asks Feilong, looking tense and angry. He  
doesn’t like being helpless. He has almost no influence in Japan.  
There’s no one he can bully or torture or kill to help locate Akihito  
and Haruki. Regardless of the fact that they don’t share a bed anymore,  
Feilong loves Akihito and has grown fond of Haru (he’s always been fond  
of teasing him) and is itching to help. Asami shows him the collars.

"He sent two.He must have had Akihito’s custom-made to match Haru’s,"  
says Asami when he notes the puzzled frown on Feilong’s face.

"Do you think Akihito misled him on purpose?" he asks.

"I don’t know. But I hope so," replies Asami. "Because that would mean  
they’re thinking. They’re smart, and if they’re able to deceive him, he  
hasn’t broken them. He’s only making small mistakes right now, but he is  
making them. And that’s how we’ll find them." He turns back to the  
window and stares out it, unseeing, at the massive city unfolding  
beneath him. He notices that the scraps of leather are still clenched  
tightly in his fists. "Come back to me."


	20. Revenge - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get much worse before they get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I don't need to reiterate that the things in this chapter should never be done to people. They're not okay. They're horrible and vicious and evil. This chapter is also intense and awful. Don't try any of this at home or anywhere. Ever.
> 
> Just don't.

"Haru."

Haru knelt up and opened his mouth for the tidbit of food Murakawa  
dangled above him. He took it gingerly, careful not to touch the man’s  
fingers with his lips or teeth or tongue. He chewed the small bite  
quickly and licked his lips clean.

"Good boy."

Akihito was chained in the corner. His own plate of food placed just out  
of reach. He would wait until Murakawa had amused himself enough by  
feeding Haru by hand--Haru’s reward for his obedience for staying bent  
over the padded horse, and not moving his clasped hands from the small  
of his back during the beating he’d received from the thick leather belt  
now slung over the arm of Murakawa’s chair.

Both boys had little desire for food at the moment, but knew better than  
to turn it down. Haru’s chest still occasionally hitched as he knelt at  
Murakawa’s feet. His face was damp and salty with the evidence of the  
crying he’d done. He winced as he settled back gingerly on his heels.  
His raw ass and back felt more than bruised. Murakawa had fairly flayed  
them with the belt until he’d been too winded to continue. The rough  
edges had eventually drawn blood in a few places that had been hit the  
worst. Haru could feel it trickling down his back, pooling in the crack  
of his inflamed bottom.

Murakawa didn’t seem to notice that anymore than he regarded Akihito’s  
muffled sniffles. The food collected in Haru’s stomach like rocks.  
Akihito had had it even worse than him because after one brutal stroke  
of Murakawa’s belt that had wrapped around Akihito’s inner thigh, and  
struck entirely too close to his testicles, Akihito’s had yelped, and  
his hands had involuntarily broken their hold on each other. He’d  
clasped them again quickly, but it was too late.

Murakawa had taken one of his canes from the wall and sliced five  
strokes into Akihito’s already raw backside. Even worse, he had seen  
Akihito’s fear when he’d approached with the weapon in his hand, and had  
taken great pleasure in telling Akihito that he’d use it again anytime  
he messed up.

If Haru hadn’t been chained at the time, he thinks wouldn’t have been  
able to restrain himself from leaping at Murakawa and trying to claw the  
smirk from his face. Instead, he has to go along with Murakawa’s attempt  
to drive a wedge between him and Akihito.

"I shouldn’t play favorite with my pets," Murakawa drawls, with a lazy  
smile, making Haru reach higher for the next piece of food. The shadow  
of pain across Haru’s face and quiet hiss this exertion causes makes  
Murakawa’s lips stretch wider. "But really, it’s human nature, isn’t it?  
I can’t help but want to spoil a good little boy who does what he’s told  
so nicely."

His hand drops to Haru’s head, when he’s taken the food from his  
fingers, and he strokes through Haru’s silky hair. "You’ve shined today,  
my Haru," he says jovially.

"Thank you, Master," Haru says hoarsely, keeping his eyes locked on the  
carpet before him. They’re seething with a hate that astonishes him with  
its intensity. He’s never felt anything like it before.

The past two days have been a constant minefield. Murakawa’s attempts to  
drive them into competition with each other, to break them down with  
pain and belittlement, and then to provoke envy by the momentary lifting  
up and praise of one of them. The problem is, they never know which  
facet of Murakawa they were going to get. He’s predictable in some ways,  
but unpredictable, too, because at any moment, his current persona can  
switch at the drop of a hat.

"Maybe you’ll be the first," Murakawa muses, his palm sliding almost  
absentmindedly over Haru’s hair, as if he were petting a cat. "You  
haven’t earned it _yet_ , of course. But you’re showing promise. You  
need to be truly broken at my feet, bleeding and sobbing and desperate,  
and knowing without a single doubt that I am the only one who has ever  
truly mastered you. When you’re ready, my Haru, I will let you beg for  
my cock. You’ll worship it first with your sweet, dirty little mouth,  
and then you’ll beg for it in your ass. I’ll take you dry. Hard. I’ll  
master you in that way, too, until your voice is lost in screams and tears."

Haru fights not to shudder, not to puke up the food congealing in a  
leaden ball in his stomach. He doesn’t dare to even sneak a look at  
Akihito in the corner.

" _Haru._ " Murakawa yanks his head back viciously. "Are you paying  
attention?"

"Yes, M-master," Haru stutters, and he feels fear now because Murakawa’s  
voice has lost its dreamy quality, and his narrowed eyes seem to be  
trying to pierce Haru’s most private thoughts.

"Then again," Murakawa reverts to joviality, letting go of Haru’s hair  
as he stands to walk over to Akihito. He kicks the plate closer to  
Akihito. "Perhaps this little pet will be the one to earn that honor."

Akihito’s shoulders hunch as Murakawa crouches down in front of him.

"So noisy and ill-behaved at the Black Rose. But that’s hardly your  
fault. Your training was obviously sadly lacking. Under a _firm_  
hand, you’ll be a beautiful slave, I promise you, Akihito."

Akihito knows better than to start eating before he’s given permission,  
even though the food has been put within his reach. He keeps his head  
lowered, eyes on the food, so that the man cannot see the way his lip  
curls in revulsion at the thought of the bastard’s loathsome touch.

"Yes, my lord," he murmurs softly. His voice is too hoarse from  
screaming to speak any louder, so it’s a good thing Murakawa believes  
slaves should mostly be seen and not heard. The pain from the cuts of  
the cane throbs with his pulse. He’s still bleeding too, and older,  
more-healed scabs pull when he shifts. He’s really not hungry, is afraid  
he’s going to throw up when he has to ingest anything, but right now  
he’d do nearly anything to avoid further punishment with that cane, and  
Murakawa still has it in his other hand, the one he hadn’t used to feed  
Haru. He’s unable to keep from flinching and letting out a small,  
wounded noise when his captor uses the cane to force his chin up.  
Fortunately this time the man likes the flinch. Aki can see it in the  
manic gleam in his eye.

"Are you hungry, my naughty pet?" he purrs, the sound of his voice  
grating over Akihito’s tortured flesh like glass. He tries not to gag  
before he answers.

"If it pleases you, my lord," he whispers. Oh, this is apparently a good  
answer. Murakawa beams at him. They’ve discovered that he likes being  
called "my lord," just about as much as he likes, "Master," and Akihito  
uses it whenever he thinks to, because it’s a term he uses with Asami  
when he’s making fun of him and when he’s not in as much pain as he is  
right now, he appreciates the irony. He’s also learned better than to  
say yes or no when asked if he’s hungry, because he’ll usually get the  
opposite result to his expressed desire.

"Go ahead then, little pet. Just your mouth, now. And make sure to lick  
your plate clean like a good boy."

Aki sniffles hard and ducks his head to eat the food on his plate. He  
doesn’t really taste it. His nose is too clogged from crying, and he’s  
too numb with terror to notice the taste anyway. They’d discussed it and  
agreed to always eat when they get a chance to do so though, because  
withholding food seems to be one of Murakawa’s favorite demoralization  
techniques, and when their chance comes to make their move, they need to  
be strong enough to take it. Murakawa is no Asami, but he’s not weak either.

The man watches Akihito consume his dinner, making a mess all over his  
face and chin and down his chest because he’s not used to eating only  
with his lips and teeth and tongue. Haru is better at it than he is, and  
he’s practiced some with Asami. Not very often, because Asami says he  
personally doesn’t enjoy making his subs eat without their hands (though  
he does enjoy feeding them), but there may be events they’ll attend  
where it is required.

To once again emphasize that one of them is in favor and the other in  
disgrace, he then tenderly wipes off Haru’s lips and face with a damp  
cloth, even allowing him to blow his nose, although he doesn’t need it  
as he’s been fed his meal. He leaves Akihito covered in his though,  
laughing and suggesting that perhaps he’ll be more careful next time.  
Both to please his Master more like Haru, and to be less messy.

They wait a few minutes after he’s gone, to give him time to get to his  
surveillance room, before Aki throws Haru a resentful glare and they go  
through a pantomime of sullen argument and angry body language. Their  
posturing has nothing to do with the conversation, however.

"Oh gods, Aki," cries Haru softly, "are you all right? I’m so  
sorry...the cane...he..."

"I’ll be all right," says Akihito softly, wishing for a napkin like  
crazy because he’s a huge mess. "Haru...he forgot to chain my ankle back  
to the cot tonight."

"He did? Oh my gosh, he did. Are we gonna....is it time?"

"No...I don’t think so. You can’t help me if I rush him on my own.  
Besides, when he comes back down and I’m unchained but I just behave  
myself, he’ll get even less worried about remembering from now on. He’ll  
start to believe he’s got me close to broken. I’m going to be really  
g....ugh....good, and not even say anything about it."

"That’s probably smart," agrees Haru with obvious reluctance.

"Haru," says Aki suddenly, leaning against the bars and banging one fist  
against them impotently as if he’s saying something furious and  
threatening through them at the other young man, "What do you think is  
going to happen if Asami does find us before we get free on our own?"

"Wh-what?" asks Haru, looking bewildered by the sudden change in subject  
and by the question itself because obviously, ‘rescue them,’ is the answer.

"He’ll kill him. M-Murakawa. And anyone else that’s here in this place  
helping him. And it...it wouldn’t be the first time."

Haru’s head snaps upright from its bowed, exhausted position resting on  
the palms of his hands while his elbows on his knees support them, his  
eyes gone suddenly quite wide.

I’m sorry, Haru...I’m so sorry. I haven’t...haven’t told you about it.  
About the things that have happened to me, to us, before we met you. I  
didn’t tell you on purpose. I was...you’re such a good person, Haru. I  
didn’t want to lose you, if you knew the truth. I was selfish. But  
he’s...well if he finds us first...you’ll see what he’s capable of. And  
I...it’s only fair for you to know."

"Tell me," whispers Haru.

So Akihito does. He leaves out the details of their first intimate  
encounter. He’s told Haru some of that, when they’d done that silly BDSM  
checklist, and it gives him a terrible pain in his chest when he thinks  
how many of the things on it they’ve still never tried. But he tells him  
of the crooked cop and Feilong’s biological father and the Russians on  
the cruise ship and what had happened to his and Ai’s stalker and how  
he’s not sure whether Asami had had anything to do with that or not. He  
tells it all fast, staring at his feet, breathless and ill and  
unutterably sore all over and terrified that when he looks up, he’s  
going to see condemnation in Haru’s eyes.

He looks up.

Instead of the judgment Akihito is expecting, or even the pity and  
horror Akihito thinks might be there, he finds a tight, fierce smile  
that matches the look of righteous determination in Haru’s eyes.

"I’m sorry for everything that happened to you, Aki. I really am. But  
you should have told me before." Haru’s hands curl tightly around the  
bars of his cell. "I’m not nearly as good as you think I am. Not  
 _nearly_. Because all I feel right now after hearing everything is  
 _glad_. I’m glad Asami-sama is capable of that. He did all that to  
 _protect_ you, because he loves you so much, Aki. Because you  
belong to him, and he’d _die_ to keep you safe. It’s you who’s  
good. Because _I_ think all those people got what they deserved,  
especially..." his throat tightens, and his face twists into a savage  
little snarl that’s shocking to see on Haru’s face, "...especially the  
one who tried to kill you. I’m _glad_."

"Haru..." Akihito whispers.

Haru doesn’t realize he’s trembling. It’s almost imperceptible, fine  
tremors that vibrate inside and out. His words to Murakawa, that Asami  
would kill him, had been a lashing out, a hyperbole of sorts. But now  
that Haru has had the truth from Akihito, he comprehends the underlying  
basis of his prediction. On some level, he’s known all along Asami’s  
capability because he’s seen the depth of protectiveness himself, and  
seen it exercised for others. Oh, he’s only caught a glimpse of the  
ruthless side of his Master, though never directed at him. But he’s  
always been vaguely aware that Asami operates at or outside the limits  
of the law at times, but he trusted in Asami’s code of honor.

Akihito’s words only confirm his formerly unspoken and amorphous ideas  
of this code. His faith in Asami’s honor, in the man himself is not  
shaken. It’s been strengthened by Akihito’s story.

Akihito is watching him with wide eyes, and Haru thinks he’s truly  
shocked him. Will Akihito think less of him now? Perhaps if he’d heard  
all this before this moment, before everything that’s happened to them,  
maybe then the revelation would have been more jarring, would have taken  
him aback.

But Haru doesn’t think so.

He thinks Murakawa will get _exactly_ what he deserves. And if that  
happens outside the purview of the law, Haru can’t find it within  
himself to protest. A cold, pragmatic voice wells up within him.

_If the police handled it, the courts, that would hurt Asami-sama and  
Aki and me, as well. Everything would change forever. But more than  
that, he hurt Aki...badly...and he intends worse. He wants to hurt  
Asami-sama even more. He won’t stop at just this. And there’s all those  
other boys he’s hurt in his hateful life..._

"I...we’re..." Haru stumbles now, trying to articulate the maelstrom of  
feeling that makes his limbs tremble, to make Akihito understand  
 _why_. "I _love_ you. You and Asami-sama. I’d do anything to  
keep you safe too. If someone hurts you...you understand? They  
can’t...they can’t hurt you or take you away...I...I _need_  
you...and...and...we...you’re mine...you’re mine too...and I don’t care  
if I’m bad for...for not caring if anyone who tries to do that suffers  
or dies...I don’t _care_ if Murakawa dies because...because he...he  
hurt all of us...and...and..."

A sob slips out of Haru’s throat. What it means to finally belong to the  
both of them is something that Haru can’t even begin to articulate. The  
worth of it is far far beyond words, just as his gratitude is. It’s  
something he’s sure Asami-sama understands. But Akihito, in some ways,  
is different from them. Akihito, who could find love anywhere, easily.  
His bright, vibrant personality is like a beacon. He might not  
understand how greedy and selfish love could be, especially when someone  
feels like it’s a miracle they’ve been offered it at all.

"I...won’t ever be cruel like him...like Murakawa," Haru whispers, but  
he takes a shuddering breath. "But...but I’ll do what I have to, if it  
comes to that, even if I’m not as strong as Asami-sama...I...I won’t let  
that stop me."

"Haru," whispers Aki, "you could never be anything like him. At all. Not  
in a million years! I don’t....I’m glad you’re not mad, Haru. I was  
afraid you’d....well, it doesn’t matter. I’m glad, that’s all. And I’m  
sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. We were selfish a little, Asami and me,  
I think. We didn’t want to...to face what would happen if you knew  
everything about what he’s capable of doing and you couldn’t deal with  
it. I almost couldn’t. When he shot that policeman...right behind me...I  
was so scared. It wasn’t until a lot later...months and months and  
months....that I was even able to remember that he’d had a gun too, and  
that it’d been pointed at me. He was going to kill me, that cop. Just  
because I found out he was crooked. I wouldn’t have told on him. I  
didn’t want to live in that world."

He heaves in a great, shuddering breath and looks earnestly at Haru  
across the great gulf that separates them. It seems so far. He wants to  
hold his lover in his arms so they can tell each other they’re going to  
be okay. He misses Asami. "In a world where people kill people.  
But...but sometimes you can’t avoid terrible things. Asami didn’t...drag  
me into his world. I barged in on it. And if it hadn’t been him, it  
would have been some other person I investigated, only they might not  
have decided I was....I was cute. My job puts me in that world, and I  
guess it was pretty clueless of me to try to act like I was...better  
than those people. When I was planning to spy on it and live in it and  
share it with the world. I’m lucky it was Asami who noticed me first.  
Someone else would have killed me. In China...on Feilong’s boat...I  
pulled the trigger, Haru. I meant to...to kill that man!" Tears fill his  
eyes and spill down his flushed cheeks. "I’m glad you’re not mad,  
or....or freaked out. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home so bad.  
But...have you figured out what he plans to do with us?"

"Yes," says Haru bleakly, but the anger is still in his eyes and it  
makes Akihito feel a little less scared. "He’s going to sell us."

"Yeah, to...to some old perverts who’ll....r-rape us and beat us  
and...and all sorts of other horrible things. Nobody’s allowed to do  
those things to you, Haru. So I...I won’t hesitate either. Okay?"

"Okay," whispers Haru, looking rather fierce, and Aki’s chin lifts and  
they exchange a look of perfect understanding. Akihito doesn’t know if  
he’ll be able to go through with it, if it comes to that, but he hopes  
so. He remembers Feilong telling him what it would be like to be sold to  
fat old men who wanted his pretty young body, pumped full of drugs so he  
couldn’t run or fights, craving only those drugs, not his own life or  
his freedom. It scares him more than anything he can think of. More than  
taking Murakawa’s life, if it comes to that.

***

"The mule’s name is Tanaka Yuuto," says Asami coldly, glancing behind  
him at the image taken from the traffic cams outside the delivery  
service that is projected on the wall. "We don’t know how close an  
associate of Murakawa’s he is. Yet. At least it’s a lead." His fists  
clench slowly at his sides. He feels the pen in his hand crack. Five  
days. Five days with no sign of them. It’s as if they’ve disappeared off  
the face of the earth. He wants to kill someone right now so badly that  
he’s almost frothing at the mouth for need of it. Every resource he has  
is being put to finding Akihito and Haruki, and so far it has not been  
enough. He knows they’ll get a break eventually. This is what he  
 _does._ He finds things, impossible things. Makes things happen.  
Murakawa has been very careful not to leave any sort of trail that  
connects whatever persona he’s using right now to the real man.

He doesn’t have to give one of his patient but unnerving silences to  
regain attention at any point during this meeting, as he occasionally  
does during a staff or board meeting. Every person sitting at his  
conference table knows Akihito, and most of them know Haruki as well.  
He’s gratified to see grim determination on every face. He is, and he’ll  
thank them when Aki and Haru are safe. He’s practically vibrating with  
rage and terror as he outlines for them all the steps being taken.

"Two days ago, we provided Kuroda with a list of every single property  
owned by Kenji Murakawa in the entire world. The authorities are in the  
process of searching those properties one by one. We are letting them  
handle this arm of the operation, as we’re about as close to 100%  
certain as it’s possible to be that he is not actually holding them in  
one of those properties. If he were, he would not have sent me evidence  
that confirms him as the kidnapper."

Everyone nods. They all know the search needs to be made, but letting  
the police handle it frees them up to do their own investigating. He  
pauses to look them all in the eye as if testing their resolve.  
Kirishima and Suoh of course, though he has to admit that Suoh’s show of  
anger has taken him by surprise. He’d remarked on it, and Suoh had  
glared at him and growled that the brats have grown on him. Feilong and  
Yoh are no surprise either.

They both love Aki with a ferocity surpassed only by his own, and know  
better than anyone else here what Haru means to him. A couple of his  
other security force members are here as well, but the real surprise had  
been Haruki’s sensei. Morioka Kiyotaka is Haru’s professor and faculty  
advisor for his advanced degree studies in Architecture, and is one of  
the world’s most renowned architects in his own right. He’d shown up at  
Asami’s office on the third day, demanding to be seen.

"You’re the reason my student has been smiling so much recently," he’d  
snapped bluntly when he’d been admitted. At that point, Asami had  
already realized he was grasping at straws and, though he’d normally  
have instructed Kirishima to show the man out, he’d made time, hoping  
he’d gain some insight or clue.

"I think so," Asami had said cautiously.

"He’s changed the name of his emergency contact to yours," the old man  
had said, poking Asami in the chest with his finger. Asami had tried for  
the next 3 minutes or so to recall the last time he’d been poked by  
anyone other than Akihito and failed utterly. "He hasn’t shown up for  
class for three days. That’s not like Haruki. He’s a conscientious  
student. I called, then went by his apartment when I got no answer or  
return call. I’m sure you’re aware there’s _crime scene_ tape over  
his door?"

"Yes."

"Where is he?"

"I don’t know," Asami had snarled through his teeth. The little old man  
had poked him again.

"Has he been taken?"

"Yes."

"Then I’ll help you find him. Tell me what you’ve got."

Asami had tried to refuse, but the man is a force of nature. He’d  
squinted at Asami and done more of the poking thing and told him in no  
uncertain terms that he knew perfectly well what the name Asami Ryuichi  
meant in certain circle, but that if he was the one responsible for  
Haru’s happiness, then the advisor didn’t care if Asami sold drugs to  
elementary school children or ate puppies for breakfast, he was all  
right. Somehow, baffled and utterly charmed by the man, Asami had found  
himself telling him what they’d learned so far (which hadn’t been much).

"Well, I may not be much of a detective, but if he’d gone as far as  
concealing a room or rooms in this property you think he’s purchased,  
there’s no one better qualified than I to point out where it likely is  
once you’ve located the place. I can look at a room and tell you if a  
wall’s out of place. So stop dithering and let me help Haruki."

And because this is patently true, here Morioka sits, rubbing elbows  
with assassins, sipping a cup of Oolong tea and watching Asami with  
snapping black eyes, nudging him to get on with it.

"Now that we have his name, we’re running a search of his financials.  
It’s even possible the new property is in his name, along with the car  
and motorcycle which had been seen outside Haru’s apartment the day of  
the kidnapping. If not, we hope to find a name somewhere in his records  
that might be Murakawa. Either way, we hope he’s going to lead us to  
Akihito and Haruki. Therefore, I need you all to be ready to move out  
the moment we’ve found him. Our investigation may alert him that we’re  
on to him. I hope not, but it’s possible. You’re all to be ready to move  
at a moment’s notice. I’ve promised Kuroda to inform him if my own  
investigations uncover anything useful. I’m telling all of you right now  
that call is going to fail to go through, and if you have a problem with  
that, you may leave now without recriminations." He pauses, and looks  
around at every face, lingering longest and gazing most sharply at  
Haru’s advisor, who stares back blandly and takes a sip of tea. Were he  
not almost blinded by his anger and worry for his boys, he’d be tempted  
to laugh.

"Kirishima will continue to handle e-research. Suoh, measure everyone  
here and see that all are issued kevlar." His eyes flash fire at Feilong  
when he opens his mouth to protest. "I’m well aware it interferes with  
movement. You’ll wear it."

Feilong sits back and subsides, unhappy, but unwilling to cross Asami  
when he’s in this kind of mood. They iron out the logistics of a basic  
assault plan, though final details won’t be ironed out until they’ve got  
a location and know what sort of structure they’ll be facing. He sends  
them away and goes to stand in front of the window again. Every favor  
he’s owed from anyone who might provide him with information has been  
called in. Kirishima is the best there is at hacking personal  
information. If there is anything at all in Tanaka’s past, present or  
future that ties him to Kenji Murakawa and thus to Akihito and Haru, Kei  
will find it. It’s only a matter of time.

"Gods," he whispers, "let them have time...."

***

"It’s done, Master," Haru says softly, padding back to Murakawa’s side  
on his bare feet and kneeling once again. His large, clear eyes look up  
him guilelessly. A hint of fear add a constant shadow to their  
expression, and Murakawa revels in it, knowing that his little slave  
understands fully that he is at his Master’s mercy. So within the boy’s  
steady gaze is also an earnest desire to please, and, Murakawa notes  
with smug satisfaction, after several days of training, a softer,  
needier light. By stripping away all of the boy’s past conditioning and  
replacing it with his own, he’s made Haru completely dependent on him.  
Even now, the boy quite unconsciously leans into his touch, seeking  
warmth and reassurance like a little puppy.

Murakawa indulges him for now and doles out a reward. "Good boy." The  
simple praise makes Haru’s eyes shine and he straightens into his best  
posture, showing off his lithe form to perfection. Murakawa hides a  
smile. The naivete of the boy is so appealing, he almost regrets that  
the auction is so soon, or the need to sell this boy at all.

What a thrill it would be to enter one of the premier clubs in the city  
with this beautiful toy on his leash. _And the matched pair of  
them..._he indulges the fantasy a moment. His hidden smile slips out  
into an unpleasant smirk. _But no._ He’ll only have a few more  
weeks with them, and after tonight, he’ll have to restrain himself in  
order to let them fully heal before they go up on the block.

The fine, dark strands of Haru’s silky hair, slip through his fingers.  
 _Ah, well. I’ll just have to make the most of tonight._

He can hardly believe he’s almost achieved everything he intended. Not  
that he had any doubts, but he can’t deny that Asami is a dangerous man.  
And he’s pulled all this off right under his nose. How he wishes that  
Asami was here to witness what will happen in the room this evening.  
 _Chained to the wall like the vicious mongrel he is and helpless to do  
anything but watch I as break his precious toys._

Even as he thinks that, the chains Haru has used to attach Akihito to  
the dangling cuffs in the middle of the room rattle softly. Akihito must  
be feeling the strain. He’s not quite raised on tiptoe, but his torso  
and arms are stretched to their fullest, leaving his body taut and  
quivering like a thoroughbred racehorse. His lovely, pale skin gleams.

Murakawa can’t wait to mar it.

"He seems impatient, doesn’t he, pet?"

Murakawa slants a grin at Haru, who offers up a tentative smile, looking  
as if he’s afraid of his own daring to do so. It makes Murakawa’s grin  
widen. Haru had chained Akihito with no hesitation and no evidence of  
guilt or sympathy while Akihito had stood sullenly, not meeting Haru’s  
eyes. It was beautiful to witness the breakdown of that annoying loyalty  
they had shown at first. Now, instead of looking to each other, their  
eyes fix on him when he enters the room, each wanting to be the one to  
earn his favor. They had played right into his hands. It was exhilarating.

"Now, Haru, go open the box I’ve brought down." Murakawa says as if he  
were bestowing a wonderful treat. And it would be--for him.

"Yes, Master." Haru rises gracefully, and goes to the box. He opens it  
with reverent gentleness, casting a quick look at Murakawa who looks on  
in approval. Then he gasps. Akihito’s chains rattle again, though he  
can’t see what Haru can. But he must know the startled sound means  
nothing reassuring.

Murakawa can’t help but laugh. "Do you recognize it?"

Haru’s wide, frightened eyes meet his, and he nods. "Yes, Master."

"Yes, it’s gorgeous, isn’t it? The whip I used that night at Black Rose  
on that worthless slave who failed me. After all I’d done for him, he  
betrayed me. But I’ve taught you better, haven’t I, Haru? You’ll never  
betray me, will you?"

"No, Master," Haru whispers.

"Bring it here," Murakawa orders.

Haru does, his face gone white, and his hands tremble as he presents the  
whip to Murakawa. The heavy, black coiled leather looks lethal, and  
there’s no lie in it. _This_ whip can do damage. It’s his favorite  
toy to tame and discipline a slave, and more importantly for tonight, to  
whip his desires to frothing heights.

"Can you guess what will happen tonight, my tender little slave?" He  
stares down at Haru’s pale face. "I’m going to make you both dance to  
the lash of my whip. I’ll give you the gift of pain, as I never have  
before. And you’ll love every moment," his hand cups Haru’s jaw, and his  
thick, thumb presses into Haru’s mouth, "even as you scream and cry and  
bleed for me and beg for mercy until you’re hoarse. And when I’m done,  
I’ll unchain you, and you’ll get down on your elbows and knees, your  
wet, sticky faces pressed to the floor. Your raw, bleeding cheeks thrust  
up in the air, and you’ll present your greedy little holes to me. And  
the one who pleases me the most..." his fingers tighten, his thumb  
pressing down hard on Haru’s tongue. The boy’s throat convulses, but he  
begins to suck softly, eyes gone liquid in his distress. "The one who  
pleases me the most will get the pleasure of my cock first."

Murakawa closes his eyes, relishing the swift, harsh, panicked breaths  
he can hear coming from Akihito, the feel of Haru’s gently sucking  
mouth. An internal shudder sweeps through him, and he barks, "Get in  
position now, slave."

The boy scrambles to obey, obediently lifting his wrists to be shackled  
despite his obvious fear. The two of them, Haru and Akihito, share a  
look. It’s a mutual moment of desperation, of fright, but Murakawa isn’t  
angered, because it’s also a sizing up, an unspoken challenge to prevail  
against the other. They both wish to appease him so badly. He couldn’t  
be more pleased.

Akihito’s throat closes with terror at the things Murakawa says, his  
bowels turning to water at the sight of the whip. Oh Gods. They’ve borne  
so _much_. He’s hurt them so many times, beaten them, treated them  
like animals, done his best to strip them of their humanity. They’ve  
done their best to play along, let him believe he’s succeeded. They’ve  
talked about this, he and Haru, while pretending to bicker and accuse  
and to pretend to argue. That in the times he’s prattled to them about  
how it will be when he finally makes them his own, claims them,  
 _rapes_ them, they’ll be unchained, because it won’t count in the  
man’s demented brain somehow if they don’t accept his violation of them  
without being restrained.

They’ve agreed that they must let it come down to that very moment, when  
he is utterly distracted. On their knees for him, he’s kept saying,  
until they’re pretty sure he does mean it literally, which means he’ll  
have to be on his knees too, behind one of them. He’s going to be at his  
most vulnerable then. That will be their moment, their best chance to  
overpower him and escape.

They’re tired. Neither of them has slept through the night since he took  
them. They’re hungry. He usually remembers to feed them at least once a  
day, but not always, and pretty often it has only been once a day.  
Sometimes he only feeds one of them. They’re in pain all the time,  
bruised and aching, their backs and rear ends and legs covered with  
half-healed welts and several scabs. There are even the same marks on  
the fronts of their bodies. A few of the cuts from one of his toys have  
become infected. Aki has one cut high on his left thigh from the cane  
that tends to crack open and ooze unpleasant things if he bends too  
quickly. They’re far from at their best. He and Haru exchange a grim and  
determined look. Tonight. It’s going to be tonight. If they have any  
hope of escaping this madman’s clutches, they’ll have to time it exactly  
right.

And it means the whip. He remembers seeing it slash open the skin of  
that poor helpless boy Murakawa had tortured at the Black Rose. Oh, he  
wishes he didn’t remember, wishes the sounds of the slave’s screams as  
he was beaten didn’t echo in his mind at the right of it, coiled thick  
and black and deadly in the man’s hand. Tears well up in his eyes as his  
courage fails him. He trembles. He can’t. He just can’t. It’s going to  
hurt so bad. He wants to go home. He wants Asami.

"Please no," he whimpers in a small, defeated voice. Murakawa looks at  
him and chuckles.

"Are you frightened, little Aki?" he asks, voice dripping with mock concern.

"Yes," he gasps, a sob escaping from behind his lips. Haru looks as  
miserable as he feels, but Aki knows the expressions on his lover's face  
as well as he knows his own and sees that Haru’s fear is for him. This  
bolsters him a little, and his chin firms.

"You should be afraid, sweet little pet. This is my very favorite toy,  
and I’ve been saving it for this most special night. It is like nothing  
you have felt so far. And because you’re a disobedient, naughty little  
boy, you’re going to get to watch what it does to Haruki, see him scream  
and bleed and beg...knowing that you are next and that there is nothing  
you can do to escape it."

With that, he steps back and shakes out the whip. It hisses across the  
concrete floor like a live thing, but the man’s words have had the  
opposite of their intended effect. Oh, he’s still scared, but he’s  
furious now too. Has there ever been a bigger bastard in the history of  
bastards? Chortling over how badly he’s about to hurt Haru, to build  
Akihito’s terror.

Haru, who is sweet and thoughtful and supportive. Who makes Aki feel  
like he’s important and strong and necessary, in whose blue eyes he sees  
himself reflected as someone to be respected and admired and adored.  
Rage subsumes his fear. Oh, it’s going to be horrible, he has no  
illusions about that, but before this night is over he’s going to plant  
his foot in this sick fucker’s face and then they are walking out this  
door together and not stopping until they fall into Asami’s arms. The  
perverse part of his brain that has always chimed in with inappropriate  
truths at the worst possible times points out that they’re naked and  
it’s going to be a little hard to walk all the way to shinjuku like that  
from...wherever they are. As if that’s what’s important at a time like this.

He shudders when the whip falls with a thick, meaty thwack across Haru’s  
back. Anguish contorts his beautiful face and his mouth opens in a  
silent scream. He’s shocked breathless by the pain of it, and simply  
cannot make a sound. That condition doesn’t last, and when the whip  
lashes into him a second time, jolting his lithe, slender body, Haru  
shrieks. The unutterable pain in that scream lances into Akihito’s guts  
like a blade, and he bites his lip against the urge to beg the man to  
let Haru go.

 _The plan,_ he thinks desperately, _stick to the plan, no matter  
how hard it is._ Haru opens his eyes, filled with tears and blurred  
by pain, and Akihito looks deep inside them, willing Haru to look at him  
and to see how much Aki loves him and wishes he could take this pain  
away for him. He feels every stroke like a knife to his heart, biting  
the inside of his cheek to keep from giving voice to his sorrow at  
Haru’s screaming.

It’s horrible, even more horrible than he’d remembered, because it’s  
happening to someone he loves. He glances at the floor at one point and  
sees small, glistening dark spots peppering the cement. Small flecks of  
Haru’s blood are splattered by the whip. Aki feels one or two of them  
strike his own skin, and he moans softly in sorrow and fear. While all  
his concern is for Haru, in the back of his mind he remembers that he is  
next.

Nothing... _nothing_ he’s ever felt before could possibly have  
prepared him for how much Kenji Murakawa’s bullwhip hurts when it bites  
cruelly into his flesh. It burns like having a red-hot poke laid across  
his shoulders. From the first stroke, he feels his own blood slide hot  
down his chilled skin. With each nauseating stroke he’s sure the pain  
can’t possibly get any worse, but with each stroke it does.

He screams until he feels at though his throat is bleeding and all he is  
able to emit is a small ragged croak of agony. The lash seems to slice  
through his flesh like a knife through butter. Cuts throb gleefully  
across his shoulders and down the middle of his back, across the cheeks  
of his ass more than a dozen times, and down the backs of his thighs,  
curling cruelly around his legs, which tremble and refuse to support his  
weight so that he sags in his bonds and his fingers go cold. He sobs and  
sobs, utterly without hope by the time the beating stops.

The sound of their sobs echoes around the sparsely furnished space. Even  
Murakawa is breathing hard and raggedly with the effort it’s taken to  
beat them. He laughs, though, and steps in front of them, wiping a sheen  
of sweat from his brow with one forearm. He cracks the whip with a  
sudden hard jerk of his wrist, and both boy’s choke on their tears.

In a horrible, terrifying moment, Haru wonders if Murakawa intends to  
whip their front sides, too. He hears Akihito’s sobs take on a frantic,  
panicked speed. _Oh, God. He can’t,_ Haru thinks with his own  
rising hysteria. _He can’t._ It can’t go on a moment longer. It  
can’t keep happening. Not to Aki and not to him. The sounds coming from  
him tear through Haru’s heart, the despair and defeat and his cruel  
suffering. It’s wrong.

"M-M-Master," Haru’s voice trembles, raw and hoarse. With all his will,  
he lifts his head and meets Murakawa’s gaze, not hiding his agony, his  
fear, he gives all of it that Murakawa could want to see. But he also  
digs deep within to offer up an aura of desperate submission and base  
humility and adoration. "Oh, p-please, M-master. N-now? Please, now  
w-will you...will you take us?"

He widens his eyes, letting the pooled tears fall freely, trying to  
convey his desperate need to please, his desire for his Master’s utter  
domination. "P-please, f-fuck me, Master."

Akihito moans, and gasps for breath. "N-no...no," he manages to get out  
in between his tears. For an instant, Haru fears Akihito will abandon  
their plan to protest, but then he starts begging too. "No, M-master.  
 _Me._ Please...me."

Murakawa laughs, his eyes roving over their exhausted, bleeding bodies  
with triumphant glee. "I knew once I taught you the way of a _true_  
Master, you would transform into _proper_ slaves. All slaves need  
to learn the taste of a whip until they obey without question and beg  
for their Master’s favor. Little sluts," Murakawa adds with  
condescending good humor. "You’ve pleased me." He inclines his head with  
what he obviously think is regal ceremony. "Very well."

He steps forward and undoes Haru’s shackles first. Haru manages to keep  
his footing when his wrists are freed, but just barely. Fresh tears  
spill out at the searing pain as his body throbs with each bruise and  
cut. He staggers, dizzy and on trembling legs, but then he drops to his  
knees anyway and bows his forehead to the ground as Murakawa releases  
Akihito.

Akihito slumps to the ground at the sudden removal of support, crying  
out piteously as his wounds pull and burn. Haru doesn’t look, but he can  
hear him struggling to right himself. Murakawa laughs, and Haru’s  
fingers curl tightly at the mocking tone. His hatred for Murakawa flares  
anew.

"Come now, if you can’t even get to your knees, you’re not much good to  
me," Murakawa taunts.  
Akihito grunts and moans, but Haru hears him slump to the floor again.

"Look how you’re trembling. Disgraceful slave," Murakawa says, but Haru  
can hear the glee beneath the admonishment. He’s pleased to have reduced  
Akihito to this state, even though he’ll inevitably punish him for it too.

Haru won’t let that happen. He just hopes that Akihito isn’t quite as  
done for as he’s acting.

"Master," Haru calls in his raspy, battered voice. His forehead is  
pressed low to the ground, and he raises his hips as high as he can,  
lewdly displaying himself for Murakawa. "Oh, Master, please. I’ve waited  
so long. Please let it be me." He can’t hide the tremor in his hands as  
he forces himself to reach behind and spread his cheeks wide. "Please,  
I... I _need_ it....I need your c-cock in...in me...please, give it  
to me. Master me that way too. M-make me your slave _completely._ "

He’s terrified. He’s never felt more vulnerable than at this moment. God  
knows, he’s utterly at his limit, operating on last reserves of  
adrenaline and sheer willpower, but his body is in awful pain and he’s  
spent, almost to the very limit. If Akihito is in worse shape than he  
is, he doesn’t know what they’ll do. Murakawa must be tired too. _It’s  
a lot of work to beat people within an inch of their lives,_ Haru  
thinks bitterly. But he’s in nowhere near as bad of shape as they are.

Haru shudders. He doesn’t want this to happen. A tiny sob slips out.  
 _No. No. It’s the two of us against him. We can take him. We have  
to..._

"Master." Haru puts all the longing he ever felt for Asami-sama into  
that word, hoping to draw Murakawa in. Just thinking of his strong,  
beautiful lover makes his heart ache, but his blood sings too.

_Oh, please, Aki._

It’s tonight, he realizes through the hazy fog of pain that has crowded  
out all reason. Now. The plan they’ve devised to escape this torture,  
their best chance to overpower the maniac who is going to sell them into  
forced slavery, where they will likely die of a drug overdose if they  
aren’t killed by whatever sick old pervert buys them...or by Murakawa in  
one of his frenzies. It will be their best chance, they’ve agreed. From  
his frequent insane ramblings, they’ve deduced that he doesn’t intend to  
make use of them sexually until they’re broken, and he’s sure they’ll  
offer themselves to him voluntarily, without being tied down for it.  
Likely part of this will be because they can’t run. At least, that’s  
what they’ve been hoping to make him believe.

It’s very nearly true. Aki can’t think of a single inch of his body that  
isn’t in pain right now. Even his _hair_ hurts. His collapse isn’t  
entirely feigned. When the shackles are released and he dimly realizes  
he’s supposed to present himself to his "Master" for his consideration  
while the sick freak decides which one of them he intends to rape first,  
his legs refuse to support him and he sinks to the floor, trembling in  
abject terror. Aside from that, he just _hurts_ so damn  
 _much._ When Haru distracts Murakawa from his annoyance with Aki at  
his inability to display himself by pleading with the bastard to fuck  
him, it shakes Akihito out of his fog.

"No," he moans softly, struggling to his hands and knees. Almost gagging  
with disgust at himself, he lowers his chest to the floor and lifts his  
ass in the air, looking back over his shoulder as hungrily as he can.  
Knowing it’s not very convincing, he closes his eyes for a moment and  
thinks of Asami, inwardly begging the man’s forgiveness at the same time  
that he imagines that knowing smirk, the way his body looks framed by  
his open shirt, muscles rippling. "Master, pick me first!" He doesn’t  
try too hard to change the man’s mind. They’re both nearly certain he’s  
going to pick Haru, as he and Asami are the ones Murakawa’s actually  
fixated on and Akihito is really an afterthought. And of the two of  
them, Akihito is ever so slightly physically more powerful from all the  
acrobatics he tends to pull while in pursuit of the perfect shot, up to  
and including jumping off of buildings. Thus they’ve agreed it should be  
Aki who strikes the first blow, with the best chance of stunning their  
kidnapper.

Blinking furiously in an attempt to clear his swimming vision, which is  
clouded by his tears and pain, Akihito frantically scans the room for  
something he can use as a weapon. Although he’s crazier than a soup  
sandwich, Murakawa is depressingly crafty. The walls of the room in  
which he’s kept them all this time are bare except for the various  
apparatus to which he’s chained and tied them, and those are bolted to  
the walls. The two cages hold their metal cots and nothing more. Chamber  
pots that are provided for their use twice a day (and woe betide them if  
they don’t use them at that time, at least to urinate) are taken away  
after they’re used.

Despairing, he’s wondering if any of the self-defense moves Suoh has  
taught him might be of use when his eyes alight on the carved, lacquered  
wooden box from which Haru had withdrawn the hated whip. He can’t tell  
what kind of wood it’s made of, but the clasp looks like brass. It  
should have some heft to it. He mentally gauges the distance from where  
he’s crouched here on the floor, displayed like some lewd scene from a  
pornographic movie. His mind snaps back into focus on the moment when  
Murakawa leans down and gropes Haru’s naked ass, long fingers reaching  
between his splayed thighs to fondle his genitals. When his index finger  
prods experimentally at Haru’s tightly clenched asshole, it hits Akihito  
that this is really happening. Now, tonight...is it even night time?  
He’s completely lost track of time in here. What if....

"Oh Gods," he thinks to himself, "Haru’s about to be fucking  
 _raped_ in front of you and you can’t even stay focused on him for  
 _three_ seconds..." He whimpers softly and concentrates as hard as  
he can on the scene unfolding between them, waiting for the moment when  
Murakawa will kneel behind Haru and open his fly, and it will be  
Akihito’s moment to act. He frowns. Something is wrong...

Murakawa’s hand is at his crotch, but he’s not unzipping his pants. He’s  
clutching himself through the fabric, tugging. Akihito’s gaze shifts up  
to Murakawa’s face. His brow is furrowed, his face contorted into an  
expression of frustration.

_Oh._

He stifles the utterly insane urge to giggle, but Murakawa’s gaze slides  
over, and he catches Akihito staring. His face grows red and mottled in  
fury and embarrassment, even as Haru has begun to fidget at the wait and  
strains to look over his shoulder. Haru’s mouth drops open a little, and  
his eyes widen in understanding.

"This is _your_ fault, stupid slut!" Murakawa kicks Haru viciously,  
catching him with the tip of his shoe on the upper thigh. "Get your  
useless fucking mouth over here and wrapped around my cock."

Haru scrambles to his knees, wincing as the abused muscle in his leg  
spasms, and casts a wild look at Akihito. Murakawa fists his hand into  
Haru’s hair and yanks his head back. "Open your mouth and suck, little  
whore."

The plan is going all to hell, and there isn’t anything Haru can do but  
fumble at the waistband of Murakawa’s pants. Murakawa is vibrating with  
fury. Haru’s hands tremble, but he finally gets the belt undone. His  
stomach is nothing but a sick ball of nausea. He doesn’t want to do  
this, but he’s never seen Murakawa look this crazed. He _has_ to  
calm him down.

He tries not to think about what will happen if he can’t do it, if he  
 _can’t_ overcome Murakawa’s impotence and his terrifying rage. His  
fingers move to the button of the pants, he _will_ do it. He has to.

Then he makes the mistake of risking a peek up at the man towering over him.

"Don’t you DARE look at me! Don’t you laugh at ME." Murakawa roars.  
"Fucking WHORE!"

His backhand knocks Haru to the floor, and he lies there stunned. Haru  
hears Akihito cry out, but before he can rise, before he can even take  
stock of Murakawa and where he is, Haru hears the awful whistle of the  
whip. The pain streaks across his side in a ragged line of heat and  
pain. He shrieks.

The sound and the agony of the ugly, black whip cutting into him become  
his world. Again and again it strikes, and then Akihito screams too. He  
keeps screaming. Haru blindly pushes to his knees, and then his feet.  
Sweat and tears and the smell of blood surrounding him. His damp hair  
falls across his eyes, and he swipes his arm across his forehead to see.

The tip of the whip catches him, slashing his cheekbone open and making  
his face explode in a burning pain. He staggers back, one hand covering  
his eye protectively. Blood drips into his palm, slides down his his  
wrist. The noises of the room fade for a moment from the numbing  
intensity of the shock. But he hears Akihito roar.

The urge to laugh at the fact that their captor, this man they’ve come  
to fear above all else, can’t get it UP after all they’ve been through  
vanishes in a flash when Murakawa goes berserk. For several long  
moments, he’s paralyzed by shock at the sight of him knocking Haru to  
the floor and attacking him with the whip. He’s using it like a  
 _weapon._ His frozen incomprehension costs him. Murakawa whirls and  
sees Akihito staring up at him in open-mouthed shock from his position  
on his knees. He screams at Aki to stop staring, that he’ll teach him to  
mock his master, and then a line of pure hell ignites from his left  
nipple down to his right hip.

He howls in agony and curls over his wounded midsection to shelter his  
tender belly, and Murakawa hits him again. The pain is monstrous as the  
lash burns down the back of his neck and across his back, the tip  
curling underneath to end at his ribs. Each haphazard stroke flays him  
open. Through his own screaming he can hear the sound of the leather  
striking wetly, can feel the blood dripping down his front. But most of  
the madman’s rage is for Haru, and he turns back to the cowering,  
sobbing boy after a few savage blows.

Within moments, Murakawa isn’t paying attention to Aki at all, and he  
realizes with a jolt that he’s not restrained in any way when Haru  
shrieks as the whip cuts into his cheek. _Please, don’t let it be his  
eye,_ Aki thinks as he scrambles on his hands and knees to where the  
open box lies on the floor. It’s not very big, smaller than a shoebox,  
but it’s made of a dense, dark wood and its clasp is heavy as well. He  
snags the box by its lid with one hand and uses the other to help shove  
himself to his feet as he roars in denial at what is happening to Haru.

Swinging as hard as he can, he slams the wooden box against the side of  
Murakawa’s head. He feels the shock of the impact sing up his arm and  
into his shoulder. There is a hollow sort of "thock" sound and he hears  
the crack of wood splintering. The brass hasp on the lid of the box  
opens a ragged tear at the bellowing man’s temple. The noise he’s making  
ceases abruptly and he staggers just a little, shaking his head and  
clapping a hand to the place where blood is just suddenly  
 _sheeting_ down the side of his face.

Murakawa isn’t stunned for long, but it gives Haru the chance to stagger  
to his feet. His hand drops away from his face and Akihito lets out a  
grateful sob that his eye is untouched, though it is swollen nearly shut  
by how close the tip of the lash had come. Their gazes lock for a split  
second, and Akihito stops crying, squashing the terrible pain wracking  
his body with all the helpless rage of the last endless days, the sight  
of Haru’s battered body and the grim determination he sees in his  
lover’s burning blue eyes enabling him to do what he mightn’t have been  
able to do for his own sake.

This will be their only chance. If they fail now, Akihito believes with  
absolute conviction that Murakawa will kill them, despite his grand  
plans to sell them into slavery and send Asami the proof of what he’d  
done after the fact. They’ve not only seen his humiliation, but they  
have rebelled, defied him and injured him, and that won’t be tolerated.  
With a yell of outrage, he hurls himself at Murakawa, jumping onto his  
back and wrapping his forearm around the man’s throat. The blood from  
the cut he’d given him moments before makes Murakawa’s flesh slippery,  
and the enraged man hasn’t been half-starved, beaten and abused for days  
on end before this confrontation. With a bellow, he yanks Akihito off  
his back and throws him bodily across the room. All the air is knocked  
from Aki’s lungs when he hits the wall and slides to the floor, mouth  
working soundlessly as he tries to force them to work again.

Murakawa turns back to Haru, who glares at him defiantly and stands  
warily, waiting to see what the other man will do. The whip is drawn  
back. Haru rises up on the balls of his feet, eyes glued to the whip,  
ready to try to dodge out of the way, and he nearly succeeds. The lash  
snakes out and wraps around Haru’s slender neck. He lets out a strangled  
cry of pain when Murakawa yanks on the handle, the lash digging cruelly  
into his throat. Aki gasps and uses the wall behind him to force himself  
to his feet, staggering towards the surging bodies, reaching towards  
Murakawa to help Haru. Haru’s hands come up and wrap around the whip,  
pulling hard.

Continuing to tug, he takes a step forward, releasing the tension around  
his neck. He shakes the end of the whip loose and wraps it around his  
wrists, pulling harder. Akihito steps behind Murakawa and kicks him as  
hard as he can in the side of the knee with his heel, putting all his  
weight behind it, concentrating on striking just where Suoh has taught  
them. Even though he’s barefoot, the maneuver works and Aki shouts in  
triumph when he hears a sickening crunch and the man who has been their  
torturer for what seems like forever shrieks in sheer agony. He drops  
the whip and falls to the floor. Haru snags the whip and swiftly tosses  
one end of it to Akihito. With perfect understanding, they each whip an  
end of the implement around Murakawa’s throat as he thrashes and tries  
to stand. Akihito wraps his end of the whip around his wrist as Haru has  
done and they pull. They pull as hard as they can, and even though they  
are at the end of their endurance, it is hard enough to make the man  
flail and choke, fingers scrabbling at the tightly wrapped, braided  
leather where it digs deeply into his neck.

"How d’you like us now?" yells Aki into Murakawa’s reddening face. "You  
don’t look so tough anymore! Remember how you tried to hard to turn me  
against Haru? FUCK YOU! I love Haru! I’ll always love Haru and no stupid  
crazy fucker like you will ever change it! We PLAYED you, motherfucker!  
Now you’re gonna PAY and then we’re gonna go home to Asami where we  
BELONG and we’ll LAUGH at you for the rest of our LIVES!!"

Murakawa’s fingers scrabble desperately at the thick leather choking  
him, trying to dig deeper and separate his flesh and the unforgiving  
hold of the whip. But his face twists in deranged fury, and he manages  
to spit a nasty curse.

Haru grips the coil wrapped around his hands even tighter and  
 _jerks_. Murakawa makes a garbled, agonized sound that sends a  
surge of primal satisfaction twisting in Haru’s gut. "Don’t you call Aki  
that! _You’re_ the filthy one! Filthy and sick and...and  
 _pathetic_!" Oh, Murakawa doesn’t like that, even with the seeds of  
panic welling up inside him, that word makes him take notice. Haru nods  
fiercely. "You could _never_ fill Asami’s shoes. Not in a million  
years. You’re just scum, a...a....wannabe with a tiny dick!"

The words burst out of him before he realizes what he’s saying, and  
after he spews them out, he meets Akihito’s gaze. The stare wildly at  
each for a long moment, and then start laughing in short, pained gasps.  
Haru’s not sure if they’re actually laughing, or really crying, or both  
all mixed up together.

"A _limp_ dick," Akihito further clarifies, between hitched,  
sobbing breaths.

" _Master_ Limp Dick," Haru rasps.

They break down into helpless, hysterical laughter again while Murakawa  
sputters, his face alarmingly purple. His eyes begin to roll back in his  
head, and Haru leans down, abruptly sober. "You were _never_ our  
Master."

"That’s right," Akihito says coldly on the other side of him. "You’re  
just a creep nobody is going to miss. You--"

The sudden violent pounding on the other side of the door makes both  
boys cry out in alarm, their grips slacken, and Murakawa heaves a  
strangled breath, working one hand beneath the coil. They tighten up  
their hold again, but their lapse has given Murakawa strength to  
struggle. The noise outside the cell is frightening.

They share a terrified look, wondering if Murakawa’s men are trying to  
get in to stop them. They won’t stand a chance. The door frame splinters  
before they can even _think_ what to do.

But it’s not Murakawa’s men that power through the door. It’s Asami,  
eyes blazing with all the vengeance of an angry God. His hair is  
disheveled, his shirt coming untucked, and he looks exactly like he just  
went ten rounds with that very solid door, but he also looks ready for a  
hundred more, for whatever it takes. Never has a sight been so beautiful.

Haru vaguely notes Feilong and Yoh enter behind him, but he has no eyes  
for anyone but Asami. With one mind, Haru and Akihito drop the ends of  
the whip and fly to Asami, falling into the circle of his arms.

Finally. _Finally._ Warmth. Safety. Home. Asami’s scent engulfs  
them, his arms pulling them close and binding them together, unbearably  
tight, and not tight enough.

When they stagger into his arms, naked and bloody, too thin and  
horrifyingly hurt, he simply cannot move. He draws them close, feels the  
warmth of their bodies against his own, safe and whole and alive and he  
is paralyzed by his own desperate gratitude. His arms are simply not  
strong enough to hold them as tightly as he wants to in this moment. He  
buries his face in Haru’s hair, and then Akihito’s, breathing in the  
scent of them, everything in his world sliding abruptly back into  
alignment, into focus.

"My boys," he whispers.

Feilong slides past him to the man who lies gasping on the floor in the  
middle of his hidden dungeon. He keeps his back turned to Asami and the  
young men in his arms, giving them their reunion. He looks down on Kenji  
Murakawa with eyes as black and cold as an arctic night. His gun is  
steady in his hand, grip firm, finger on the trigger. It itches to  
squeeze. He’d seen enough of the condition the boys are in as he’d come  
through to door to want the man’s death as much as he’s wanted anything  
for a long time. But that death is not his to claim.

"Asami, Asami," sobs Akihito, fingers clenched tightly in the lapels of  
his lover’s jacket. All his determination and bravado of a few minutes  
ago as they’d fought for their lives vanishes and his knees threaten to  
buckle. Only the strength of Asami’s arm keeps him on his feet. "You came!"

"We knew you’d come," says Haru, his voice muffled by tears and bespoke  
wool.

"We knew you’d save us," agrees Akihito.

"Save you?" says Asami, his usual sardonic chuckle a little breathy for  
once. "From the looks of things, you were in the process of doing a fine  
job of saving yourselves when we got here!"

"This sack of shit’s condition certainly seems to agree with you,"  
comments Feilong drily, glancing over his shoulder at them. Feilong’s  
words draw Asami out of his almost paralyzed state and he stiffens. He  
looks past Feilong to where Murakawa huddles, moaning quietly and  
coughing, his hands around his throat.

"Feilong," says Asami softly, "take Akihito and Haruki to the car and  
wait for me. Check in with Yoh to see that the premises are secure, then  
contact my personal physician. He can meet us at the penthouse. I don’t  
think Aki and Haru will want the hospital. I’ll join you in a few  
minutes. And locate a van to pick up a passenger and have it delivered  
to my...well. You’ll know what to do. I just need a few minutes with him  
first."

With a moue of distaste, Feilong retrieves the thin, rough blankets from  
their cells, a recent reward for their good behavior, and Asami tucks  
them around each boy. "Come, Aki. Haru," He says softly. "Let’s get you  
out of this cesspool."

They pull away from Asami reluctantly, but Akihito snuggles up into the  
protective circle of Feilong’s arm. Haru hesitates, and after a moment,  
reaches out again to Asami. He grips the sleeve of his jacket, clinging  
tightly. "Asami-sama," he rasps with his bruised voice, over the sound  
of Murakawa’s pained breathing, "He’s not worth any more of my time, or  
Aki’s, or Feilong’s. He’s not worth your time. He’s just not worth it.  
Aki and I, we want to go home. That’s all. We want to go home with you."  
His hand falls away, and Haru looks up into Asami’s beloved face, with  
fierce acceptance and naked honesty and trust. "Don’t waste your time.  
Don’t waste more than a single bullet." Asami’s eyes widen.

Haru steps back, taking Feilong’s offered hand and lets him lead him out  
the door. They go up a set of stairs, and emerge into a room containing  
video equipment and a computer with a large display. Feilong steers them  
past the set up and through another broken door, and they finally emerge  
into an area that looks like it must have been Murakawa's living space.  
Yoh is there waiting for them, silent and dependable. Haru closes his  
eyes against the wave of sheer gratitude that somehow he belongs to this  
circle, to these people. When he opens them again, he gasps.

"Morioka-sensei?!" His jaw hangs open, and Haru can do nothing but gape  
insensibly.

Morioka's wrinkled face beams. "Ah, Ito-san. I'm glad we've found you  
and your young friend here." He bobs his head at Akihito. "Your last  
assignment was due several days ago, you know. But I think we'll be able  
to work out an extension."

"W-what?" Haru stutters, utterly floored by this apparently insane  
occurrence.

Feilong laughs softly and squeezes Haru's hand. "Morioka-san helped us  
find you, Haru. He insisted."

"O-ohh..." Haru whispers, still bewildered, but he bows as best he can.  
"Thank you very much."

Morioka's face softens and he touches Haru's shoulder briefly. "Welcome  
back, Haruki. Now, this old man will get out of the way and let these  
good men tend to you."

Haru nods dazedly, but forgets all his confusion when Feilong takes them  
towards a big door that stands open wide, Suoh’s hulking frame a shadow  
to one side, standing guard. Through the opening, the bright light of  
day bombards them. They wince from the sting of it, tears springing to  
their sensitive eyes, but then Akihito looks at him, and they break into  
enormous grins, and then into laughter. They really did it. They survived.

Akihito reaches across Feilong’s body, searching, until his fingers find  
Haru’s and they tangle together. Tears roll down his cheeks as his  
laughter dissolves into tears of joy and relief. They’ve done it.  
They’ve escaped. Suoh bows to them deeply and Aki’s cheeks heat with  
pleasure. Yoh’s hand on Feilong’s arm makes them pause and the  
dark-haired bodyguard goes to one knee, setting two pairs of soft  
slippers on the floor at their feet.

"Akihito-san, Haruki-san," he says softly, "put these on before you go  
outside. The concrete may be hard on your feet. We have robes for you too."

Aki’s head cranes around to look behind him when gentle hands drape a  
soft cashmere robe over his shoulders. He glances at Haru, who looks  
surprised as well by the deference Kirishima shows in helping them put  
on the robes (vastly preferable to the filthy, threadbare blankets  
they’d had draped around them). Kirishima, too, bows to them before he  
steps back out of the way.

"Why is everybody being weird?" he whispers loudly to Feilong, who  
laughs softly and hugs him briefly.

"How like you not to realize, Akihito. You have earned it, the two of  
you. Faced grave danger, and torture, and you have conquered your enemy.  
We are merely your escort home. Everyone already knows that the two of  
you defeated that pus-bag all on your..."

They hear a sharp, loud crack. Akihito recognizes the sound of a pistol  
shot, and his shoulders sag with relief, as do Haru’s. He’s not sorry.  
He tries to tell himself he should be, should feel guilty that Asami has  
once again had to kill a man on his behalf, but he’s glad. Glad Murakawa  
will never hurt anyone ever again. And desperately glad that Asami has  
taken Haru’s words to heart and will not stain his hands with the things  
Aki knows Asami would have done to him, had probably wanted to do, and  
had foregone. For them, because Haru asked him to.

"... _late_ pus-bag," amends Fei with satisfaction evident in his  
tone. "They wish to honor you both, that is all."

***

Asami stares down at Murakawa for several seconds, his mind racing. He’s  
kept the darker aspects of his life well away from Haru. He’s made sure  
of it. But there’d been no mistaking the look in Haru’s eyes. The one  
that had known exactly what Asami meant to do with this sack of putrid  
waste at his feet, and hadn’t minded.

Dimly, he’s aware that Murakawa is babbling, pleading for his life, but  
he doesn’t pay attention. He’s too startled by the ferocity he’d seen in  
Haru’s eyes. A sense of pride so enormous he feels he can’t contain it  
rises up to smother every ounce of bloodthirsty vengeance that had  
clamored in his brain mere moments ago. That had demanded that he hustle  
Murakawa out of here and to a safe and _well_ -soundproofed location  
so that he could then torture the man to death very slowly, and savor  
every ounce of agony, for what he’s done to Asami’s boys. Pride in  
 _them_ , those very boys, who had kept their wits about them in the  
face of terrible pain and little hope. That they had outsmarted their  
captor and, in the end, overwhelmed and beaten him. These are not  
children to be sheltered and protected and shielded, as he’s done in the  
past. These are men worthy of standing by his side. No, of standing in  
front of him, for they’ve proven themselves better men than he this day.  
Despite all they’ve suffered at his hands, they’d show Murakawa mercy.

"I was going to take you with me," he says to the gibbering, mewling man  
at his feet. "Take you somewhere safe and oh, so quiet. I was going to  
show you over the course of days and weeks...possibly months...what  
happens to men who touch my things. You’d have begged for death long  
before I felt merciful enough to give it to you. But Haruki is right  
about you. You’re _not_ worth more than a single bullet."

There’s a single sharp report from behind the concealed wall where  
Murakawa’s personal, private dungeon had been hidden. He catches up with  
his boys before they reach the front door, and Asami walks out of that  
door with them, into the sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you may be disappointed that Murakawa's end came to him to quickly and relatively easily. Many people have portrayed Asami in fanfiction as a very bloodthirsty, violent man. We are not saying that he wouldn't want to make the man who hurt his boys pay for it, slowly and terribly, before he died. But we decided this way was better. We wanted Haru and Aki to be well aware of what Asami planned for Murakawa, and not even terribly bothered by it, except that they simply wanted it to be over. In the past, Asami would have probably patted them on the head and agreed and then done what he wanted anyway.
> 
> But this story was, in the end, about empowering Akihito and Haruki. Aki is so often portrayed as the perpetual victim, and we don't really care for that. We feel that Asami doesn't think about him that way in the Manga. He doesn't have Aki followed. He lets Akihito work with him, help him with his investigation of Sudou. Okay yeah, he ends up captured again, but ASAMI doesn't treat Aki like he's helpless, and we didn't want to do that either. We wanted the boys to do most of their own saving in the end because being part of Asami's life has taught them confidence, and self-reliance, not dependence. And we felt that Asami would honor their courage and strength. And their wishes. The man is dead, and that it what matters. He has no power over any of them anymore.


	21. Ex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru recieves a text message from his ex-boyfriend, Issa, asking to meet him for dinner. What does Issa want, and how will Haru handle confronting the main source of his insecurities? How will Akihito handle it too?
> 
> Thanks to one of our lovely followers on wheremydem0nsh1de.tumblr.com for sending us this idea in an ask!

_/Haru. I know, it's been a while, but I'm back in town, and I'd like to see you. How does dinner sound sometime this week? - Issa/_

"Oi! Don't block traffic." An impatient student skirted around him, and Haru realized he'd come to a complete halt in the middle of the busy walk that led to the Arts building. He started forward again, his feet taking him automatically to his next class.

Issa. He hadn't heard from him in over a year. Not since Issa had broken it off with him after their unpredictable six month relationship where Issa blew hot and cold, and Haru never knew which one it was going to be. Well, that wasn't exactly true. It was mostly cold unless Issa was in the mood for sex. Then, he couldn't get enough of Haru, at least while it lasted.

Thinking back on it, he wasn't sure if Issa had even _liked_ him. Haru felt himself flush hotly as he entered the classroom. He took his seat quickly, letting his hair fall forward over his face. All those feelings and memories he'd half forgotten came rushing back; his insecurities, his inadequacies, his efforts to keep Issa happy, and to not be too clingy and needy like Issa always said he was when he wanted to go out somewhere with Issa, or even when he just wanted to spend time together alone doing what Haru had thought couples would do. 

But Issa wasn't openly affectionate often. Sometimes he had been, when they were kissing, right before they'd go to bed. He was most affectionate then. Cuddling up next to him and teasing him a little, saying nice things and making Haru laugh and blush. Haru had relished those times. But then Issa would push him away, and Haru had accepted his excuses that he just came a from a family that wasn't demonstrative. He knew people like that. It was nothing like _his_ family, but he could understand it. It made him feel protective of Issa, and a bit sad that he didn't know how to show that kind of emotion easily. So he tried not to put too much pressure on him. He tried hard not to cling, and he never expected Issa to show him any special attention publicly.

But it _had_ hurt. Haru had doubted himself for a long time. He still wasn't entirely convinced that he was at all loveable, though it embarrassed him to even admit to worrying about it. But back then, with Issa, it was something he truly worried about. He never would have dreamed _then_ that he'd meet someone like Asami-sama and Akihito, and that everything would change so much. He could _scarcely_ believe it now.

Almost the entirety of his professor's lecture was lost on Haru. The question of why Issa was contacting now was too distracting. Haru had to admit to a morbid curiosity. What would Issa be like now? Was he seeing anyone? What were _they_ like? Obviously, they wouldn't be anything like him. In fact, they'd probably be the total opposite. 

Haru spent a while imagining possible partners for Issa. Maybe someone tall and sporty, good-looking, and with a lot of confidence and a casual air about them. Someone strong and self-sufficient and opinionated. Issa was a lot like that. _He was probably bored with someone like me._

Haru's face screwed up a little. _Well, I don't care. He isn't half as good-looking or cool as Asami-sama or Aki._ Haru relaxed, resting his face in the palm of his hand as an unconscious smile spread over his face. If Issa hadn't broken up with him, he'd never have met them. He should see him, just to thank him for that. 

Haru suppressed a snort of laughter, bending over his paper to pretend he was jotting down notes. Suddenly, the idea of agreeing to meet Issa for dinner was sounding more appealing. He didn't have anything to be worried about anymore. He had not one but _two_ lovers who actually appreciated him, who went out of their way to be with him. Issa would be in for a big surprise if he thought he'd find Haru the same as he remembered. Haru sat up straighter in his chair. He'd definitely respond to Issa today.

He waited until dinner was over to tell them about the text, mentioning it as he brought Asami-sama his usual drink. "I got a text from Issa today." He blushed a little, finding it a bit embarrassing to bring up his ex-boyfriend. He'd mentioned him a few times to both of him, though he and Akihito had talked about him more. "Um, do you remember who that is?" From the look on Akihito's face, he definitely remembered, and Asami's hand had actually paused, poised with the tumbler halfway to his mouth. "Ah, well. he's back in Tokyo, and he wants to have dinner to catch up, I think."

Asami paused to consider Haru’s words before responding, but Akihito had no such reservations.

“What the fuck does _that_ asshole want? Who does he think he is, waltzing back into your life to mess with you? No way! He was an idiot who didn’t know what a good thing he had! He doesn’t deserve one minute of your time, Haru!”

“Akihito,” said Asami calmly, laying a hand on Aki’s arm where it was clenching his dinner knife quite menacingly, “why don’t we let Haru speak for himself...and decide for himself in this matter? What about it, Haru? Do you want to accept his invitation? I don’t think it’s a bad idea for you to go.”

Akihito choked a little and gawked at Asami incredulously. Why would Asami say such a thing, knowing how badly this Issa fucker had messed with poor Haru’s head? He’d come out of that relationship with a bunch of ideas that he wasn’t very loveable, that he wasn’t a good lover or worth keeping around. Aki thought _he’d_ like to go to dinner with this Issa character and teach him a thing or two about relationships. And how loveable Haru was. And maybe what it felt like to get punched in the dick.

"That's what I was thinking," Haru answers. He gives Akihito a fond, warm smile when he makes an indignant sound. Truth be told, he loves that Akihito is so quick to spring to his defense, even if he is overreacting a little. "I'm not sure what he wants, Aki. Maybe nothing. But I have to admit, my first reaction was to make an excuse."

"Yeah, you should go with that reaction," Akihito huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"But if I do that, then I won't be able to brag." Haru sat down in his chair again and grinned.

"What do you want to brag about?" Akihito asked with a sulk to his voice. "Can't you just send him an email?"

Haru looked at Asami, who merely smirked back at him. Haru sighed, and reached out his foot to poke Akihito's leg. "What do you think? _You_. You and Asami-sama. It won't be as fun over an email."

A look of understanding dawned on Akihito's face, his scowl transforming into a rather smug smile, though he still looked only partially mollified.

"And..." Haru hesitated. "I want him to see that I'm not the same person he remembers. I want him to see how happy I am now. That I'm...stronger and...more confident. Does that sound stupid?"

“Not at all,” said Asami with a pleased nod. “I think it’s a good idea, Haru. I’m glad to hear that’s your reason for wanting to go. I support it.”

“Well, if you think I’m not gonna be there too, you’re crazy,” muttered Aki darkly, glaring at his hands as he stood up abruptly to start clearing the table. He turned his back on them both, not wanting them to see the vulnerability in his eyes. Not wanting to watch the look on Haru’s face when he said no, he didn’t need Aki there. When Asami told him not to interfere. “Not with you guys or anything. I’ll get a different table. He won’t know I’m even there. Unless...unless he hurts you, Haru. Or does something...um...inappropriate.” It was a lame excuse and he knew it, but he couldn’t stand the idea of Haru being alone with someone who had hurt him, who was, as far as Akihito was concerned, responsible for far too many of Haru’s hang-ups and insecurities. Granted, it was true that those cropped up a lot less often now. Kicking the ass of somebody who has tortured you more than half to death had a way of building confidence in a guy. So much confidence that Akihito was a little worried Haru wouldn’t need him anymore.

Haru got up silently and went to Akihito. Akihito tensed when Haru's arms slipped around his waist to hug him from behind. But when Haru pressed a little kiss to the nape of his neck, Akihito let out a long sigh and sagged against the counter.

"Aki, I don't have to go if it bothers you so much. Issa doesn't mean anything to me anymore. It doesn't even make me sad to think about him now."

Akihito turned to face Haru, and the vulnerable shadow in his eyes made Haru's heart melt even more. He couldn't help but kiss him. Akihito's hands settled on his hips, and Haru felt his fingers clutch tightly. The needy sound Akihito made evoked an almost painful tenderness. Akihito needed him as much as Haru needed him. Just thinking that made Haru so glad he could hardly breathe.

"It's because of you." He pulled away a little to smile at Akihito. "I just want him to see that my life is really great now. It's probably a little immature, but I can't help it. I'm _really_ happy. And if you really want to go, I'm okay with that. It's probably not fair to spring you on him, but we can figure something out." 

“No,” said Aki, kissing Haru again because it was just impossible not to. “I don’t want to do that. It’s not that I don’t think you can handle it, Haru. After M...Murakawa, I don’t think there’s much of anything we can’t handle anymore.”

They’d tiptoed around using the man’s name, all of them, for a little while after returning home from their ordeal. As though saying it could somehow conjure the man, or as if his spectre might somehow still have some kind of power over them, until collectively they’d realized they were doing it and realized how absurd it was. They’d resolved to call him by his name from then on, to not allow him to influence them anymore. And they’d been doing better with it, but the sound of the name did still give Akihito a little hitch in his breathing anyway. Haru nodded and smiled encouragingly.

“Part of it’s that I don’t trust the guy not to try and hurt you again,” he said, pressing their foreheads together. His eyes slid past Haru to Asami, who had gotten up from the table and stood leaning in the kitchen doorway, watching them with an amused smirk on his face, which was utterly belied by the way his golden eyes devoured them both where they stood. He looked at them like that a lot now. Akihito couldn’t imagine how awful it had been for someone like Asami to not know where they were or what was happening to them for so long. He’d been pretty horrified himself when he’d found out they’d been missing for almost 2 weeks. They’d lost track of time, being kept in a room with no windows and no clocks.

“But part of it...well, I don’t want to go _with_ you...I want to know what restaurant you’re going to and just...be there at the same time to watch you rub it in that asshole’s face! Besides...I’m an adult! I can happen to choose to eat dinner at any place I want...if it just happens to be the same one well...damn, it’s a small world!”

Haru giggled. "Just don't show up wearing a moustache disguise, or I won't be able to stop laughing." When Asami snorted behind him, Haru tossed him a cheeky look over his shoulder. "Should I expect you, too, wearing a trench coat with an upturned collar?"

“With your bodyguard on the job? I’m certain I won’t be needed. If you can’t stay safe on your own, the two of you together are up to any challenge. Your poor ex-boyfriend isn’t going to know what hit him,” said Asami, straightening up from the door and stalking slowly towards them, winking at Akihito, who was glaring suspiciously at him, trying to decide if he was being mocked or not. Seeing none of the sardonic amusement in his older lover’s eyes, the suspicion was replaced by pleased surprise. Asami meant what he said. “Though I wouldn’t be disappointed if you were to employ some of the surveillance gear you got from that mysterious benefactor for your birthday. I’d pay an investigator a lot of money to be able to see and hear that conversation.”

“Oh yeah? How much it it worth to you?” asked Aki archly. Haru punched him on the arm. Asami named a sum that made Akihito’s eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling. 

“I might make you sorry you said that,” he snickered shrewdly.

“I almost never say things I’m sorry for,” said Asami pleasantly, reaching them and taking them both gently by the hand, then tugging them towards the door.

“What are you doing?” asked Aki suspiciously.

“Who me?” asked Asami, failing utterly at an innocent act and coming across vaguely menacing instead. “Why, I find that if I’m sending my pets off to meet one of their ex-lovers tomorrow, I’m somewhat inclined to send them off with their pretty little bodies covered in my marks so they’ll be thinking about to whom they belong.”

“Oh,” said Haru faintly, not struggling at all, “oh no. Not...not _that_...”

 

"You're not wearing _that_ ," Aki said, sitting on the edge of the bed." He had insisted on keeping Haru company while he was getting dressed. That's what he called it, but really, as the time drew closer for Haru to meet Issa, he'd began to get a little sulky again and had been throwing not so subtle hints about calling it off.

"Why?" Haru turned to the mirror and frowned. "Does it look bad?"

"No! That's the problem. You look _too_ good. Why do you need to look like that for _him_?"

Haru looked at himself in the mirror again and then back at with a raised eyebrow. "Aki, I'm wearing black slacks and a plain button down shirt. I wear stuff like this all the time."

Aki pouted. "We should rethink this."

"Should I wear the blue shirt?" Haru asked guilelessly.

"That's not what I meant!" Aki threw himself back on the bed and glared at the ceiling. "He better not even think about touching you."

"Like I'd let him," Haru soothed. "Anyway, he's not going to do that. He freaked out if I even stood too close to him in public. Anyway," he continued hastily, when that little morsel of information seemed to make Akihito even more upset, "I'm going to tell him all about you, so even if he is interested, he'll know there's no chance."

That seemed to do the trick. Akihito sat up and started smiling again. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, Haru. I just hate thinking how he treated you. It makes me so mad."

"Well, now I'm stuck with you." Haru grinned and started laughing out loud when Akihito tackled him to the bed. "You're wrinkling my shirt!"

"That old thing?" Akihito got a wicked gleam in his eyes. "You're not wearing that. I want that asshole to be _drooling_ over you tonight. Eating his heart out."

With some misgivings, Haru agreed to let Akihito help him pick out an outfit. The black t-shirt that fit him like a glove, he let himself be talked into, but he balked when Akihito ordered him to wear the leather pants he'd only worn out to the club before. It took an intervention from Asami to get Akihito to back off. But the compromise had paid off. He did look pretty sharp all in black, with gleaming shoes, his bracelet, and one of Akihito's many necklaces that Aki had him borrow.

Asami-sama's eyes gleamed when he came into the room, and Haru found himself pushed up against the door, his neck smarting from the sharp, possessive bite he really should have expected. What he wasn't expecting was Akihito to do the same thing. He could only hope that the marks would fade by the time he met Issa, or that the restaurant would have a dim interior.

Asami drove them himself, dropping them off a block away from the restaurant, and Haru went in first. He paused just a moment outside the restaurant and took a deep breath. No matter what, it was a little nerve-wracking to think about seeing Issa after all this time. He really had no idea _what_ to expect.

"Good evening," he said to the hostess inside the tasteful, but not outrageously upscale establishment. "I'm meeting someone here. Matsuoka Issa."

He followed her to a table nestled in one corner. Haru's heart began to pound. And there he was. Issa looked exactly the same. His close cropped hair that suited his strong jaw was the same. He still liked to work out from the looks of it. How would he look to Issa? For some reason, he couldn't shake the unreasonable idea that Issa would reject him with one indifferent glance, despite the fact that he'd invited him here.

But Haru knew he was being silly. Besides, if that happened, Akihito really _would_ punch Issa in the dick. _That_ amusing thought gave him the confidence he needed. "Issa," he said, smiling with natural ease. "It's been a while."

It wasn’t hard to notice when Haruki arrived at the restaurant, since his eyes hadn’t left the hostess since he’d been seated ten minutes early. Issa watched as Haru stepped to her station and then was led across the busy restaurant to his table. His brooding gaze took in his ex-boyfriend from head to toe. Damn, Haru looked...shit, Haru looked like a damn long drink of water, is what he looked like! Had he always dressed that way? 

He couldn’t remember. He never paid attention to things like clothes, but he couldn’t recall any of the guy’s t-shirts looking like they’d been painted on him. Had he always been so ripped? His slim hips rolled a little as he walked; easy, confident steps in slacks that fit like they’d been made for him. Must’ve just gotten real lucky in the fit, because Haru couldn’t afford bespoke on a student’s meager income, most of which came from grants, since his parents worked for the government and were neither important nor wealthy. 

He found himself remembering two things, both of which he didn’t want to be thinking about right now; the way Haru had sounded when he came, hips arching, with a soft gasp and a little cry because Issa had told him not to be noisy so nobody would hear...and Haru’s bizarre request that Issa be rough with him. Hold him down, tie him up...spank him. Why on earth was he imagining bending Haru over their table in this restaurant right the fuck now and spanking the hell out of him for leaving. For letting Issa drive him away. The reason he’d invited his ex there shifted considerably a he drank in the sight of him, recovering his composure as the hostess quickly took her leave to go seat another guy who’d come in behind Haru and was standing at her station looking a little impatient. Issa started to stand up when Haru greeted him, but thought better of it when he was halfway to his feet, flushed a little, and sat back down, holding out his hand. You stood up for _girls_.

“Hey, Haru,” he responded after they’d shook hands and Haru sat down, picking up his menu to take a look at it since Issa already had his open in front of him. Not that he’d paid any attention to it. “You look...good. How’ve you been?”

“Very well,” said Haru with a smile. It was a smile he’d never seen before. A cat-who’d-eaten-the-cream sort of smile, a little smug and very content. “How about you?”

“Oh, you know. Good, good,” replied Issa. They made small-talk as they perused their menus and placed their orders. Issa told Haru about the job he’d gotten as a personal trainer at his gym, sharing a couple of funny stories about clients that always cracked people up. Especially the one about the huge middle-aged lady who always wore the really tight bubblegum pink track suit and brought her tiny, ill-tempered pomeranian to work out with her. Haru had always hung on his every word he said, treating them like edicts from the gods, like Issa was the most important thing on the planet. It had been a little embarrassing at the time, but Issa was counting on it now. He mentally brushed aside the fact that Haru didn’t seem to be acting quite that same way now. Was expressing polite interest, nothing more, and seemed to be looking around the restaurant curiously.

Haru had caught a glimpse of Akihito out of the corner of his eye, and then he couldn't resist turning his head to make sure it was him. Their gazes met briefly, and Haru quickly turned back to Issa. Laughter was bubbling up in his chest, and Haru hastily distracted himself. "This is nice. I didn't think you liked these kinds of places," he said rather absentmindedly. On the rare occasions when they went out to eat, it was usually a crowded hole in the wall establishment that served curry or noodles or something simple.

Strangely, his observation made Issa look a little uncomfortable. "Yeah," he said gruffly. "Well, college students can't be so choosy."

Haru laughed. "That's true. But it sounds like you're doing well for yourself now."

Issa's confident aura returned. He sat back in his chair and nodded. "I've got a place in Shibuya now that I've moved back to Tokyo. Are you still living in student housing?" Haru nodded, and Issa smiled. "You'll have to come over and see it," he offered with a patronizing air, not even waiting for Haru's reply. He went on to talk about himself at length, and for the most part, all Haru had to do was make appropriate noises at the right places.

Frankly, he was starting to get bored, and he was thankful when the server came to take their orders. The fact that he had ever been hung up on Issa was getting harder and harder to believe. As soon as their food was set before them and they began to eat, Haru took a sip of his beer and decided to cut to the chase. He asked with wide-eyed innocence. "So, are you seeing anyone?"

Issa blinked. Haru had never been this direct. He’d intended to draw Haru back into his life with lots of stories about what he’s been doing, but the kid had just given him a pretty good opening with that question. He reached across the table and touched Haru’s arm, ignoring the way those elegant eyebrows raised a bit at the gesture. Just surprised, that’s all. He’d never been given to shows of affection in public, had been worried that someone would see them. He’d had a reputation to uphold.

“No,” he said softly, smiling fondly. “It turns out I was stupid, and I let the best someone I’d ever have get away.” He ignored the tiny frown that appeared between those eyebrows at that. The guy a couple of tables away was suddenly seized by a massive coughing fit, and Haru made a spasmodic gesture, almost as if he was going to jump up and rush to the stranger’s rescue, thump him helpfully on the back….or perform the Heimlich maneuver or something. 

Issa cleared his throat loudly over the noise and glared reproachfully over his shoulder at the other diner for a moment. He’d intended originally to tell Haru he was sorry, that he’d broken up with him because of his own issues about being gay, not because of any shortcoming on Haru’s part. But if he knew one thing about his ex, he knew that Haru was awfully open to any implication that something had been his fault, and Issa could use that to make it seem like it hadn’t been entirely his own insecurities that had caused the relationship to fall apart. It’d be that much easier to reel Haru back in. And that “best someone” comment...yeah, that’d been golden. Haru’d love that shit. Even if he wasn’t exactly giving Issa the starry-eyed, adoring smile he’d expected to be getting by now. It’s not like Haru was the type to get out there and meet anyone new. He was as in the closet as Issa had ever been! A mouse, really, and nobody noticed mice.

“That’s part of why I sent that message, Haru. I’ve...been thinking about you a lot. I’ve gone through some changes. My boss at the gym, see...well, he’s gay, and he’s helped me realize that maybe it’s not such a bad thing. That there’s not...anything wrong with me.” It didn’t even occur to him to ask Haru if _he_ was seeing anyone. “I guess I was kind of a jerk back then…” Maybe a little bit more of a concession, because Haru wasn’t looking quite as properly elated as he should have been by now.

Haru looked down at his plate, a plethora of conflicting emotions twisting his stomach. This was exactly the sort of non-apology Issa would make when they were together, not quite taking responsibility for anything, but just enough to smooth things over. Back then, he had been pathetically eager to accept those meager offerings. Hell, back then, he'd usually refuted those half-hearted justifications and taken all the blame for things himself. Now, it just made him kind of disgusted, with Issa and with his old self.

Still, he couldn't deny it felt good to hear Issa outright acknowledge for once that he'd been at fault, that it really hadn't been Haru's own shortcomings that had made Issa break things off. He raised his eyes and one corner of his mouth twisted up. "Yes, you were."

He took a moment to appreciate the way Issa's eyes widened at the shock of hearing him agree. It just firmed Haru's resolve. Did Issa really think after all this time he would just fall for him again so easily? Sure, he'd been a pushover in the past, but Issa knew _nothing_ about his life now. He just assumed he was the same old Haru.

Well, Issa was in for a surprise. Haru leaned forward, as if creating a sense of intimacy between them. Issa's fingers still rested lightly on his wrist, and Haru smiled. "But that's all in the past."

Issa's face transformed into one of smug expectation. He returned Haru's smile, making a laughable effort to cover with a semi-contrite expression, but Haru could see he thought he had him in the bag.

"I'm really glad you got in touch. It made me realize a lot of things that I think I already knew, but it was good to have confirmed. And...I really wanted to thank you."

Haru resisted the urge to look at Akihito, dialing up his smile to dazzling heights.

Issa smiled back. This was more liked it. Good old Haru. He could always be counted on to let bygones be bygones. He never held a grudge or made demands. 

“I’m glad I got in touch too,” he said huskily, in the voice that has always given Haru shivers. “You look amazing, Haruki. Really, really hot. I don’t know what you’re doing that’s made you so sexy, but I hope you won’t stop.”

The seductive line was rudely stepped on by the sound of another hacking cough. Haru didn't dare look at Akihito, but he still had to bite his lip hard to keep from laughing. He turned pink from the effort of holding it in, but Issa would probably just think he was blushing from the compliment. When he finally trusted himself, he titled his head rather coyly. "You really I think I look good?" Akihito's plan had been a good one after all.

"Oh, yeah." Issa's gaze traveled up and down what he could see of Haru's seated form. If he had gotten such a compliment while they were seeing each other, Haru would probably have fainted from joy.

"Well," Haru's dimples came out as he let his evil side have full rein, "I can't speak to how I look, but I can promise you that I definitely won't stop what's been making me _feel_ so sexy."

Issa's eyebrows shot up. Haru had never been so...suggestive either. His confidence was, surprisingly, a huge turn on. "And what _have_ you been doing?"

"Well, that's why I wanted to thank you. You see, I've been in the most amazing relationship for about a year now." Haru's smile somehow became even brighter. "If you hadn't broken up with me, it never would have happened."

It was a subtle dig, implying that not only would he have missed out on his new relationship, but also that his one with Issa could _never_ have been considered amazing. He wasn’t sure if Issa will pick up on that, but he heard Akihito making muffled sounds into his napkin, and hoped fondly that he wouldn't smother on his laughter.

"So thank you, Issa. Thanks to you, I've never been happier."

Issa’s jaw dropped and he simply sat and stared for quite some time. This couldn’t be _Haru_ could it? Insecure, clingy, mousy little Haru? He’d found someone? Absurd! Regaining his composure, Issa chuckled.

“What’ve you done,” he asked, “dug up some naive little underclassman? D’you sit around and hold hand and watch cartoons?” Haru’s face flushed and Issa leaned forward. He knew he was being cruel now, but it was the way to handle this one when he got a little stubborn. Attack, and Haru backed down so fast it’d make your head spin, stammering and apologizing. Best to nip this in the bud quickly, because there was no way Ito Haruki was in a _serious_ relationship. “Or...or...Ohh, I know. Maybe you found someone to _spank_ you. Is that it?”

A momentary stillness descended over Haru, and his veins seemed to fill up with ice. He was stunned by the casual cruelty of Issa's barb. But then, he really shouldn't have been. It was all too familiar. He was only astonished by how he was never able to see Issa's petty bullying for what it was before.

Haru knew that it was only because of Akihito's promise to him not interfere that his boyfriend was still seated and silent at his table. In that moment, he appreciated more than anything that consideration, that faith in him that Akihito had. He felt a rush of warm gratitude that he had insisted on being there, offering his silent support.

It was such a contrast to Issa, who sat there with that mocking grin, trying to shame him, to make him doubt himself. Just like he always had. But instead of retreating or making apologies or trying to appease Issa, this time Haru relaxed. He laughed.

"I feel sorry for you, Issa. You worry so much about what other people think. I used to be like that, but I'm not any more. I don't feel guilty for what I like and want. I hope one day you can say the same."

Issa stiffened. Was...was Haru actually laughing? At HIM? And _pitying_ him? How dare he? Haru was the one with the issues, not him! 

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? You’re the one with the fucked up freaky shit you want someone to do to you! There’s nothing wrong with _me_!”

Issa's voice had raised enough that a few people looked over at their table with disapproving frowns. Haru frowned too, his temper spiking. Even so, he kept his voice low and even. "Maybe I shouldn't have laughed, Issa, but you had just done your best to put me down. I'm not going to just sit back and take it anymore." He held up his hand sharply when Issa opened his mouth to retort, and amazingly, he closed it again. "I admit that I was responsible for my own self. It was my choice to stay with you when deep down I knew that we weren't good together. I'm not blaming you for that. But now, I know what a relationship _should_ be like." His chin lifted proudly. "I have _two_ incredible lovers. And, no, they're not kids. They're grown men who know how to value a lover. They're not ashamed to be seen with me, or to show affection, and they make me feel _important_ and cared for and _interesting_. They show me every day how much they want me."

Haru's eyes grew fierce, and he leaned in again and looked directly into Issa's astonished eyes. "The three of us live together. We share everything. And, oh, yes," Haru laughed softly, "we do a lot of that fucked up freaky shit. And even more than that, we have _fun_ together in so many different ways. We do things together, go places together, we take care of each other when we're sick, we talk about everything, we laugh together, and we _love_ each other." Haru took a deep breath and released it. He'd come here with no intentions to be so very blunt and harsh, but Issa had wiped away his concerns on that score."We love each other. So, whatever it is you came here for, Issa, you can just forget it. I don't need your lame justifications, and I don't need you."

Issa’s head reared back as though Haru had slapped him. He opened his mouth to say something...he didn’t know what...and was momentarily distracted by a loud cheer from the guy who had been coughing so much earlier. That guy. People like that didn’t have any business going out in public. At least whatever it was that excited him so much meant that he got up from his table and left the restaurant! Issa turned back to Haru and opened his mouth again. Then he closed it. He opened it again, certain he’d come up with something perfect to say that would put Haru right in his place. Three lovers! That was...well that was just…. But before he could formulate a reply, a shadow fell across their table. Issa looked up indignantly to tell whoever it was to fuck off, but the word died on his tongue and all the spit dried up in his mouth. The man standing over them wasn’t just the most gorgeous and compelling human being he’d ever seen. There was something _terrifying_ about him. He looked like he wasn’t wearing a single thing that cost less than a hundred thousand yen. Not even his underwear. Not that Issa would think about this man’s underwear. The man smiled pleasantly at Issa, who decided that was probably the smile he wore when he tore out your fingernails and fed them to you. 

“Haru, my sweet boy, I’m so sorry to interrupt your meal with your little friend here,” said Asami, glancing dismissively at Haru’s ex-boyfriend who was doing a poor imitation of a strangling puffer fish, his eyes sparkling gleefully at his boy. “But the firm called, and the approval for your plans came through just now, and if we hurry, we can get them to the codes office in time to get the signatures we need to start the renovation. You asked me to let you know the moment I heard anything. I’d have waited, but I...well, I simply can’t wait to break ground on the building you designed for me. For _us_. Akihito is in the limo outside. Will you come?”

It was all Haru could do not to gape like a fish in the same way Issa was, but he managed to recover from the surprise of Asami's appearance and his colorful and absolutely made up scenario. A bright, adoring smile spread over his face, and he nodded. "Of course. I don't think we were going to make it to dessert anyway." Haru rose from his chair and looked at Issa, who was still speechless and staring at Asami like he had two heads.

The tiniest flicker of guilt and compassion made Haru acknowledge him. "I am sorry our meal didn't go better. I really do hope that you'll be happy now too." With that, he pulled out his wallet and placed some bills on the table, enough to cover the meal and service. "Good bye, Issa," he said simply, taking the hand Asami proffered him.

It felt like all the eyes in the restaurant were on him as he walked to the door with Asami-sama at his side. But he didn't feel the slightest sense of awkwardness. He felt only proud, and he looked up at his beautiful lover with shining eyes, knowing that his other lover was waiting for them outside, and that there was no where in the world he'd rather be than with the two of them.


	22. Getaway - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akihito and Haru are finally declared healed of all the injuries they sustained at the hands of Murakawa. Asami has been waiting for this day, as he's had plans waiting in the wings to be set in motion!
> 
> Getaway is going to be a very, very long series as part of this larger work and it's going to contain pretty much nothing but fluff and porn! Our boys have been through a lot and they deserve a break. Plus you guys have had to go through several chapters in a row with no sex! Here's our apology! 
> 
> KEEP IN MIND PLEASE! This is a Finder AU in which all the characters from the Manga do exist, but some of their roles are a little different, and one of the main characters is an OC! This may not be your thing, but we love him!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've had requests from a number of followers of this series to see more interaction between Akihito and Asami. While we certainly understand the request, there are two of us writing this series. One of us writes Aki and Asami's parts, and the other writes Haru's parts. Both of us do write individual works, and you can certainly get lots of Aki/Asami duo interaction in Charis2770's other works, but this particular project is a collaboration,and a chapter between just Asami and Aki....well, wouldn't be collaborative. We hope you understand, but this series is pretty likely to always contain all three of our boys. Thank you all SO MUCH for reading and allowing Haru into your hearts!!

“You’re sure they’re well enough to travel?”

It’s only about the third time he’s asked the question. Yamato looks at him pointedly and waves his ever-present silver pen at Asami.

“You pay me well because I am the best at what I do, Asami-san,” he says, starting to sound a little exasperated. “I do not tell you how to do your job. If you are going to begin to tell me how to do mine, perhaps it is time for you to seek out another personal physician. Takaba and Ito are both fully recovered. You have my word on it. They are even recovered enough for the sort of...activities...you will no doubt wish to engage in on your proposed vacation. Takaba’s rib and Ito’s clavicle were both hairline fractures. There’s no sign of either on their X-rays now. They have no sign of soft-tissue bruising. They are back up to a healthy BMI, their bloodwork is normal.”

“A full recovery,” Asami echoes Dr. Yamato’s earlier assessment, and the little physician nods firmly, packing away his instruments in his tidy black leather Doctor bag. It is, in fact, one Asami gave him as a gesture of appreciation about a year ago.

“I have been saying so,” says the small man primly. Then he smiles gently and lays a hand on Asami’s wrist, squeezing gently. “They are brave, smart young men, and their actions likely saved their lives. But aside from that, my friend, you got there in time. They’re fully recovered, and healthy as young horses. Healthier, in fact, than before their ordeal,” he adds with a soft laugh, shaking his head as he recalls Ito and Takaba’s pleas with him to tell Asami that they feel fine and that he can stop mothering them to death or they’re both going to go insane, as he had examined them privately while Asami, no doubt, paced up and down in the hall outside. He has no doubt that Asami’s attentiveness to their care since their rescue from the clutches of their kidnapper has been nothing less than _perfectly_ conscientious. 

“Thank you, Doctor,” says Asami, clasping his hand and shaking it warmly. He sees the smaller man to the door and then turns on his heel, a smile that is no less than filthy curving his lips as he strides purposefully down the hall, pausing only to tap out a quick message to Kirishima before he opens the door; _Make the arrangements_.

Aki and Haru are sitting side by side on his bed, holding hands and looking up at him anxiously. This is the sixth time Dr. Yamato has been over to give them a thorough check-up since their escape and rescue from Kenji Murakawa two weeks ago. Asami has been seeing to their recovery personally. They’re more than a little eager to hear the Doctor’s prognosis.

“Well?” asks Akihito eagerly. Asami’s smile returns, and they both hurl themselves at him with cries of joy and no little relief. Not only has there been no sex until they’re fully healed, but Asami’s personal attention as a nurse has been more than a little ferocious. They both try to kiss him at the same time. He laughs and wraps an arm around each of them.

“A clean bill of health,” he says needlessly. He knows he’s been difficult for them to handle the past two weeks. But he’d been utterly unprepared to deal with how terrifying it had been to lose them. Realizing how vital they have become to him had been humbling. Once, there had been a time in his life when he’d have taken steps to ensure that they didn’t continue to hold as important place in his life as they had. But it’s far too late for him now. He belongs to them as surely as they belong to him, and almost losing them has finished his days of kicking at the restraints that may place upon his heart. The ties, he’s realized at last, aren’t in the least bit binding.

“Thank the gods,” sighs Akihito in relief. “I thought you were gonna kill us with your mothering!”

“I’m so glad,” echoes Haru, a bit more diplomatically.

“Perhaps you’d better start choosing your words a little more wisely again, Akihito,” purrs Asami with a smirk. “Because I can make you pay for them again.”

“Thank the gods,” repeats Aki stubbornly, with a cheeky grin.

“How soon can both of you pack?” asks Asami suddenly, as his phone chimes and he glances at it, noting Kirishima’s confirmation that his instructions have been filled out. The boys both look bewildered, and are full of questions. He’s deliberately vague, and instructs them only to pack for a week, and for a warm and casual locale, and that if they don’t want to worry overly about having enough pairs of underwear, that wouldn’t bother him terribly. At Aki’s protests about work and Haru’s about classes, he assures them both he’s arranged another week’s leave for further “necessary recovery,” and takes his leave of them with quick kisses, to their vocal disappointment, and with a warning that they have 30 minutes and that if they’re not packed, they’ll go naked once what they’re wearing gets dirty.

"Where do you think he's taking us? Haru asks, his face alight with excitement. He's already obediently taking his neatly folded things from that drawer. They had been brought over from his apartment to last him while he recuperated at the penthouse. Asami had barely allowed them out of bed, so almost nothing had been worn besides pajamas.

"Dunno," Akihito says, coming to look at Haru's things. "But I bet there's going to be a beach involved. Warm and casual. Asami seems to think those places are therapeutic."

Haru grins. "Well, I wouldn't care if he was taking us to the coldest spot in Siberia. I'm just thrilled to get out of this room."

Akihito. "Right? But these clothes won't work." He shakes his head and dumps half of them out on the bed. I'll let you borrow some shorts and t-shirts and a swimsuit."

"I thought you liked skinny dipping," Haru teases.

"Yeah, but if he takes us to one of his hotels, then _that's_ not an option. On second thought, I wouldn't put it past the spoiled bastard to kick everyone else out just so he could fuck us in the pool."

Haru laughs happily. "Do you think he's going to today?"

"What? Fuck us?" Akihito snorts. "If the doctor says we're 100%, then I would bet he has his dick in one or both of our asses before we even hit the airport."

Haru laughs again, and trails after Akihito as he pulls out a small suitcase from the closet and carelessly tosses in some clothes. Haru perches on the edge of the bed to watch, but he's too excited to sit still, so he pops up off the bed and gathers their toiletries from the bathroom.

"I haven't been anywhere on a vacation in a couple of years," he calls from the en suite. "I went to Germany with my parents. They have friends there, and we went to a lot of places. Dusseldorf, Dresden, Munich, Berlin..." Haru babbles on, giddy with the anticipation of their trip. "You would love their beers, Aki. I ate so many types of sausages."

"I'll bet you did!" Akihito pops his head into the room with a suggestive smirk, and Haru throws a towel at him. The two boys ends up tussling, giggling and wrestling their way across the room until they fall on the bed, which somehow ends up with them kissing and rutting against each other.

They groan against each other's mouths, the enforced chastity of the past several weeks catching up to them in a rush of adrenaline and hormones.

“If you think you’re going to do that with each other before I have a chance to get at you, you’ve got another think coming,” growls Asami’s rich baritone from the doorway. They freeze and look up guiltily, meeting his heavy stare. Akihito rolls his eyes and laughs at Asami, who doesn’t look angry after all, but does look as though if his gaze held actual heat their clothes would probably already be on fire, but Haru grimaces and sits up, ducking his head contritely.

“I’m sorry, Master,” he whispers. Akihito finds himself shoved rudely aside and opens his mouth to protest Asami’s treatment, but closes it again when he sees Haru’s guilty expression. Well...what he can see of it around Asami’s bulk, as he’s currently got Haru pinned to the bed.

“Stop,” he says softly, leaning down to kiss his sorrowful little lover before he can open his mouth to apologize again. “You and Akihito have as much right and reason to be eager for one another as I have to want to be with you both. I was kidding, sweet boy. If we had time, I’d have you both naked right now, but it’s going to have to wait a little longer, as we’re on a tight schedule. But it seems I’m going to have to spank a sense of humor back into you before anything else happens.” He grins fiercely and shoves off the bed after a rough kiss, standing up and straightening his coat. “Now hurry up, both of you. There’s no time for foreplay, the helicopter’s already waiting to take us to the airport.”

“Wow,” says Akihito excitedly, leaning down to scoop up a pair of shoes, “we really are in a hurry if we’re flying just to the airport! Haru, you’re gonna love the helicopter!” He chatters excitedly as he finishes cramming tank tops and board shorts into his bag. Asami winks at Haru.

“Now you know where you rank, pet. Helicopters before sex as far as Akihito’s concerned.”

“Maybe I’ll remember that the next time he’s horny,” replies Haru with a laugh, picking up the shorts Akihito has shoved at him and folding them before he packs them into his suitcase. Asami vanishes into his enormous closet, then sticks his head out.

“Pack one nice outfit,” he says musingly, “just in case. But Summer-weight, so you won’t be uncomfortable.”

Akihito looks at him helplessly, his hair sticking out in all directions. Haru laughs at him and gives him a shove towards the direction of his own room.

“Come on, I’ll help you, you look like you’re about to cry.”

“What the fuck does Summer-weight mean?” says Aki plaintively as he lets himself be steered. “They’re _clothes_!”

“Shh. It’s okay. I’ll save you,” soothes Haru. Asami pauses in his packing to listen to them, realizing he’s smiling like a sappy fool. He shakes his head at his own sentimentality and finishes his own packing in under 5 minutes. With a smile much less sentimental and leaning towards feral, he opens the play room (it ceased to be called the secret room some months ago, though he can’t remember exactly when) and looks around. His hands open and close, palms itching. The horrible marks on their bodies, put there by the monster who’d taken them, had taken a long time to heal. He’d been completely unable to even think about putting more on all that beautiful skin until both boys were totally healed. It seemed obscene to him, somehow. He hadn’t even been able to miss tormenting them, it had been so hideous to see what Murakawa had done to them. Both of them have been asking for days now. Akihito has been at his bratty worst, and even Haru has begun to resort to pushing his luck a little, hoping to make Asami relent. Now that they’re cleared by his physician, the weeks of celibacy and inability to even think about playing with them are removed from the table. His cock stirs in his pants. He takes out a big leather duffel bag and starts putting things inside it. He’s just finished packing everything he can imagine needing or wanting, smiling to himself when he imagines how they’re going to react to the renovations he’s had done to their destination, and zips the bag when they appear in the doorway, eyes sparkling excitedly.

“We’re ready, Asami,” says Aki, bouncing a little on his heels. “What’s taking you so long?”

Haru looks just as eager beside Akihito, and his eyes light up when he sees the bag Asami is carrying.

“Is that...? I mean, are you ... _will you..._ ” he says breathlessly. "Can we really?" Asami and Akihito both laugh at him. Handing the bag to Aki and chuckling at his soft curse at how heavy it is, Asami tugs Haru close with his hands on the boy’s slim hips. Haru gasps when their hips bump and he feels Asami’s arousal.

“I am,” he says with a soft growl, kissing Haru. “I will.” Another kiss. “And we can,” he finishes with one last kiss and nips the boy’s bottom lip, then pushes him back gently and takes the bag back from Aki. He exits the play room, tilting his head at them to follow, laughing at Haru a little when Akihito has to grab his hand and yank a little to shake him out of it.

They load themselves down with their luggage, and Asami refuses to let Akihito raid the kitchen for travel snacks as they head for the door.

“There will be food on the plane,” he says patiently when Aki pouts, holding the door open while Haru calls the elevator and presses the button for the roof.

“Yeah,” mutters Aki, following obediently enough but gazing back a little longingly at his cabinet full of junk food. “Probably caviar and shit I can’t pronounce.” He forgets his snit as soon as they push open the door to the roof and he sees the helicopter waiting, rotors turning slowly, Suoh an Kirishima standing by its open doors. Then he takes Haru’s hand and yanks him into a stumbling run as he whoops excitedly. Suoh helps them load in their luggage as Asami and Kirishima climb into the pilot and co-pilot’s seats and prepare for takeoff. He chatters excitedly to his boyfriend through their headsets as they strap in and the sleek machine lifts smoothly off the roof and shoots into the sky. They’ll be at the airport in a few minutes.

Akihito grudgingly admires the VIP service that whisks them through security and all the other red tape, and they find themselves happily ensconced in Asami's ultra lux jet. Haru looks around with wide eyes, taking in the casual elegance of their private seating area. Seating area really is a misnomer, though, because of the bed that occupies a good portion of the back of the plane. Suoh and Kirishima are further front, safely shielded from Asami's perverted tendencies, Akihito had snarked when they'd shut the door between them.

"This is really nice, Asami-sama," Haru says. "I've only flown first class once, but _this_ is..."

"Showy? Snooty? Ostentatious?" Akihito grins, tearing off his seatbelt as soon as the announcement comes that they've leveled off.

"That's a big word for someone who's acting like a little brat," Asami says with a smirk, removing his own seatbelt. "Are you vying with Haru to see whose ass gets paddled raw first?"

"Maybe," Akihito says cockily. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Asami's smile goes a little feral around the edges, and Haru is caught between a laugh at Akihito's antics and surge of heat that seems to bloom low in his belly at the look in Asami's eyes. Asami doesn't react any further, but just crosses one leg over his knee and regards Akihito steadily.

"Haru, let's have some refreshments, shall we? Bring the champagne that's cooling in the bucket and three flutes. You'll also find some chilled strawberries in the refrigerator."

"Yes, Asami-sama." Haru hurries to comply, doing his best to open the champagne without making a mess.

Asami quirks a finger at Akihito, whose expression flashes with a hint of stubbornness, but when an amused glint enters Asami's eyes, he gets up and moves closer to the long couch where Asami is seated.

"What?" he blusters, his cheeks going faintly pink when Asami's eyebrow arches.

Then, quick as a striking cobra, Asami moves. Akihito's jeans are yanked down to his knees, and he's dangling over Asami's knees, his round ass positioned fetchingly. His indignant yelp makes Haru look around and giggle.

He carries the silver tray with the champagne and bowl of strawberries and presents it to Asami-sama, carefully setting on the low table next to them when Asami nods. "Shall I pour, Master?"

"Yes, thank you, Haru," Asami answers, pressing down firmly (and warningly) on the small of Akihito's back when he tries to wriggle away. "Let's have a toast, hm?"

Haru offers the first flute to Asami. He tries to not to laugh as Akihito struggles to right himself enough to be able to hold and take a drink without dribbling everywhere. Asami waits until he picks up the third glass and looks at him before raising his.

"To my sweet, and sometimes not so sweet--" a smack to Akihito's bare bottom is interjected into the speech, "boys. To being together again. To us. Always." Asami's voice grows a bit gruffer. "Never again, do you hear me? Do not put me through this kind of thing again. I'm older than you and my heart can't take it, I'm positive."

Instead of seizing on Asami's admission of age, Akihito's expression softens. "Y-yeah, yeah. We keep you young, and you know it."

"To us," Haru says softly, lifting his glass too.

"To us," Akihito echoes.

The cold champagne is delicious, and Haru hums in surprise. Usually, he's not a big fan of champagne but this is like nothing he's ever tasted.

The corner of Asami's mouth lifts up. "1995 Salon Brut Blanc de Blancs. You like it?"

"It's so good," Haru says, smiling up at Asami.

"Yeah, it's not bad," Akihito agrees. He manages to down his glass even dangling over Asami's lap, then thrusts his flute back at Haru. "But I'm _hungry_. If you're not gonna do anything but bounce me on your knee, let me up so I can eat!"

Asami’s palm makes contact with Akihito’s naked bottom rather emphatically, drawing a yelp from the upended boy. He tries to pull off an offended glare, but Asami follows it with a series of light, stinging slaps just the way he likes best and he ruins the glare by letting his eyes roll back in his head and moaning wantonly. In moments, he’s writhing in Asami’s lap, panting and whimpering as Asami spanks him over and over with his hand. Deft fingers wander over reddened flesh and between Aki’s squirming thighs to tease his aching cock, then give him a dozen sharp slaps. He’s nearly sobbing with need when Asami’s fingertips slide between his bright red cheeks to tease his little pucker and he cries out desperately.

“Haru,” says Asami as he heartlessly stops touching Aki and spanks him again. “Our Aki says he’s hungry.” Hot tiger eyes come to rest pointedly on Haru’s crotch, where evidence of how much he’s enjoying watching Akihito’s spanking is undeniable. “Do be a good boy and feed him, hm?”

An eager smile spreads over Haru's face. "Yes, Master." He's already kneeling next to them, so he shuffles a little closer and kneels up to unfasten his jeans, sighing a little in relief as he frees his erection. It feels even better when he pushes it past Akihito's parted lips into the warm, silky heat of his mouth and Akihito hollows his cheeks around his shaft. Haru groans, "Aki..."

"Does it feel good, pet?" Asami asks just as he works a finger past the tight little bud of flesh he's been toying with. Akihito makes a guttural sound around Haru's cock, and Haru inhales sharply, his hips jerking forward, which in turn makes Akihito's throat convulse and induces another moan. The chain reaction makes Asami smirk.

"Oh...yes, Master," Haru gasps as Akihito sucks vigorously. Akihito's reddened bottom writhes in Asami's lap, and Haru watches spellbound as Asami fingers him open slowly and thoroughly. When he looks at Akihito's face again, he can see tears standing in his eyes. Whether it's from having Haru's cock nudging the back of his throat, or Asami's slow, ruthless tease that's obviously driving Akihito to crazy levels of need, Haru's not sure. It's probably both, and whatever it is, that feverish shine, Akihito's desperation and the needy whimpers he's panting out, are insanely hot.

Haru bites his lip hard, fighting a wave of pure lust that makes him think he's going to explode in Akihito's mouth at any second. And still Asami doesn't relent. Asami's fingers pump and twist and wrench aching, muffled cries from Akihito, and the vibrations make Haru's eyes roll back.

"Oh...ngh...Master...Aki...if...if you don't stop, I'm going to...to come," he whimpers as Akihito's mouth tightens around his cock on another moan. Haru doesn't need to open his eyes to know that Asami has deliberately induced the reaction, nor to imagine the man's wicked expression.

“You don’t think you can hold out, pet?” purrs Asami in his silkiest and most menacing tone. Poor Haru swallows hard and struggles manfully to hold on. Asami deliberately presses his fingers against Akihito’s prostate, wrenching a shriek from him and an answering cry from Haru as the sound vibrates deliciously along his shaft. His eyes seek Asami’s frantic and worried. “Haru,” says Asami warmly, relenting, “this isn’t a test. I want to see you lose yourself. If you come now, you’ll be ready again by the time I’ve done with Akihito and it’s your turn. Haru…” His tone turns dark and rich and velvety, the sound in his voice one he knows his boy can’t resist. “Come.”

Haru shudders as that one simple syllable sounds in his ears. All it takes is one more press of Akihito's tongue along the underside of his cock, and Haru's slender body transforms into a taut bow. His hands card deeply into Akihito hair and his hips jut forward as he throws his head back and comes with a low, pained-sounding cry. It doesn't hurt though, it feels incredible and leaves his thighs quivering as the explosion of intense pleasure radiates out from his groin and transforms into a delicious languor that spreads slowly through his blood and leaves all his limbs weak. Oh, it's perfect after such a long hard wait. Much too long. But now, everything is back to the way it should be. Akihito's mouth continues to mold around his softening cock, gently, darting one last lick at the sensitive head until Haru pulls away with a soft hiss.

He meets Asami's gaze with his own blown-pupiled look of bliss. "Thank you, Master," he murmurs. The clearing of Akihito's throat makes him grin, and he crouches down on his level to offer his lover a kiss. Akihito's swollen lips are soft and hungry, and Haru licks between them and slides their tongues together, tasting himself there. "Thank you, Aki," he whispers when he pulls back, and then his gaze flicks up to meet his Master's. The golden gaze is raw and hungry. Haru is pretty sure Akihito is going to be eaten alive.

“You’re welcome,” murmurs Akihito a little dazedly, smiling happily at Haru and then craning forward to kiss him again, whining softly against his lips when Asami withdraws his fingers. The whimper ramps up to a yelp when Asami stands smoothly, unseating him, then picks him up bodily and throws him over the back of the couch. Aki’s protests die quickly when Asami rounds the leather sofa in a flash and stands behind him, adjusting the angle of his hips with one hand while unfastening his own pants with the other. Akihito is writhing eagerly and chanting softly,

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” over and over while Asami takes his cock out of his pants and slicks it down swiftly, then takes a step forward to nudge the head of it against the boy’s softened, greedy little hole.

“Haru, hold his hands,” snarls Asami softly. He doesn’t wait to be obeyed, he simply knows he will be, and seats his cock to the hilt with one vicious shove of his hips. Akihito howls at the top of his lungs and sobs while he’s fucked open, quick and dirty, tears spilling down his cheeks. Haru grips his wrists and stares raptly at his boyfriend’s face, thinking to himself that Asami may possibly have underestimated his powers of recovery when Asami and Aki are involved. Akihito is so beautiful like this, aching and needful and so desperate. He can’t stop kissing him, swallowing Aki’s cries and answering them with eager little whines of his own. It seems like only moments before Aki pulls back just enough to cry out in a frantic little voice,

“Asami, Asami!”

Asami snarls in response and fucks him harder, hands holding Aki’s hips prisoner, whereupon Akihito shrieks into Haru’s mouth and stiffens, coming all over the back of the sofa and not caring in the least. Asami powers into his pliant body like he’s going to fuck himself out his other side, and Aki squirms and whimpers until Asami’s head goes back and his fingers clench into Aki’s flesh so hard it looks as though he may have permanent dents from them. While he stands there shuddering, head down and breathing heavily with his cock still buried deeply in Akihito’s ass, Haru reflects that he may have a lot more time than he needs because the man looks permanently frozen like that, but much sooner than he’d have dreamed possible, Asami’s head comes up slowly. He tilts it a little to one side and eyes Haru interestedly, as though he might be something small and tasty. Haru stares up at him in fascination as a very wicked smile slowly blooms across his Master’s face. Asami’s lips part and he licks them once, consideringly. There’s only been one other time he’s looked more like a predator, and it had taken Haru and Aki a week to recover from that night’s work!

“Your turn.”

Haru's stomach does a little flip because, though Asami has already fastened up his pants, he slides the thick, black leather of his belt out of the loops and and folds it double in one hand. A jerk of Asami's chin sends him to the floor next to the couch.

"Strip," Asami orders. "Then, elbows and knees." He helps Akihito adjust his clothes and settles him back on the couch with another glass of champagne, while Haru quickly sheds his clothing and gets into position, his blood racing with anticipation.

He's already hard again, and the cool air that's circulating through their private cabin feels good on his flushed skin. It makes him shiver and he presses his forehead against the vee his hands make on the floor. Asami is murmuring teasing words to Aki. Haru hears him pour another drink, and Asami chuckles. "No biting, brat, or you won't be able to sit down for the entire week."

"I can feed myself strawberries, you know?" Akihito grumbles, but Haru knows it's only for show.

"Ah...ah...ah..." Asami chides. "Open up. There...good boy."

Akihito's retort is muffled by the sound of kissing, and Haru's cock throbs as he imagines Akihito's stubbornness melting away under the sheer force of Asami's will.

An unexpected snap to his bottom, makes Haru cry out. "Push that cute ass higher, Haru," Asami chides. Heat blooms in Haru's cheeks, but he arches his hips to an obscene degree. His legs are spread wide, so nothing is concealed. He shouldn't have let himself get distracted and mess up his form.

"I'm sorry, Asami-sama," he says.

"Hm...it seems you need a lesson on focusing on your task at hand, no?" Asami's hand wraps around his erection and wrings a moan from Haru. "Your pretty little cock is already like this? What a lewd boy you are. My wanton little slut who blushes so beautifully."

Haru shudders and resists the urge to rut into Asami's fist.

"I could put a cock ring on you, but I think I'd rather have you practice self-control. So...your task of the moment is _not_ to come. Do you understand, pet? Not while I whip your tender little ass raw, not while I fuck your tight, needy hole until you scream, not until...well...we'll see."

"Y-yes, Master," Haru gasps. His cock is dripping in the tight circle of Asami's fingers, and oh, it _aches_ , and the promise of his master's words make him shiver with need. "I won't...I won't until you say so. I swear, Master."

It's good that he doesn't see the curl of Asami's lips, or the glint that appears in his eyes. He just pushes his slender hips higher, curving the small of his back. "Oh, please..."

"Yes," Asami says softly, "let's begin."

The leather cracks against Haru's cheeks as Asami lays down a series of strokes on the upturned flesh. The slow but steady build in intensity ignites a bloom of heat in Haru's vulnerable bottom. It's not hard enough to even begin to reach the limits of what Haru can take. No, it's designed to tease and inflame and _torture_. Haru groans, his hips sway involuntarily as the urge to squeeze his legs together to find friction for his throbbing erection grows stronger.

Asami laughs and Haru's buried face grows hotter. "Your blush spreads all the way down your body, pet." The belt strikes harder, landing on already reddened skin and finding fresh territory on his upper thighs. Now the pain begins, mixing with the pleasure of the stinging rhythm. It's intoxicating. Haru moans.

"Shh, pet," Asami soothes, though his words are belied by the wicked amusement in his voice. "You still have a long way to go. Akihito come here."

Haru can't hear what Asami says, but Akihito moves away while Asami continues to whip him. The belt lays burning stripes down over the welts already there, and it makes Haru whimper with a mixture of pain and lust.

Then it stops suddenly. A low, inarticulate sound of loss chokes deep in Haru's throat. But then slick fingers pry open his cheeks and the scent of Asami's favorite lubricant fills the air. Haru moans helplessly. The fingers push inside of him, none too gently, but working him open with eager and forthright twisting and scissoring. Aki...Aki is doing it, making him ready.

He can hear his panting breath behind him. "Ah!" he wails as a knuckle presses against his prostate. Asami chuckles again, and the fingers pull out.

"Do you want to fuck our Haru, Akihito? Our filthy little pet? I think he wants it."

"Yes, oh, yes," they both answer at the same time. Asami's dark chuckle washes over them.

"Do it, then. Fuck his hungry little hole for me. He's ready. Show me how much you want it. "

Akihito almost growls as he grabs Haru's hips and pushes into him. It shocks the breath out of him. Oh, he'd forgotten. He'd forgotten just how good this feels. The constricting tunnel of impossibly hot flesh spasms around his cock, and Akihito growls again, pulling his hips back and thrusting forward. Haru moans and writhes beneath him and sobs his name, and it fills Akihito with a sense of power. _He_ can do this. _He_ can turn Haru into a trembling mess. God, if this is how Asami feels all the time, he kind of understands the man a little better now. This connection is what he so desperately needs right now. After all they went through, and not being able to touch, and now... _now_ , they're alive and free and... _oh, God_ , Akihito groans and...

Asami pulls him away roughly, ignoring Akihito's wild protests. "My turn," he growls and plunges his dick to the hilt into Haru's open, twitching flesh.

"Unngh...Master," Haru cries. His arms quiver, doing their best to support his weight as Asami fucks him with ruthless power. He's practically sobbing by the time Asami pulls out, and Akihito takes his place again. "Please...please...please," he begs, inarticulate in his desperation.

It feels so good. Fucking Haru, being inside him, sharing him this way with Asami. Aki closes his eyes and bites his lip. He doesn’t want it to end, but he’s not going to have much choice pretty soon. His eyes and his mouth fly open with a cry of protest when Asami pushes him out of the way again.

“Ahh! Damn it, Asami! I was about to come,” he pouts furiously. Asami pauses in the act of tilting poor Haru’s hips to _just_ the right angle before ramming his cock back inside the squirming little slave and looks at Akihito. He smirks at Aki’s evident distress.

“Go wash yourself off, then come back and fuck his mouth. He won’t be able to complain anymore that way.”

Haru blushes even deeper in mortification as Aki cheers delightedly and flies to the bathroom. Asami looks down at his poor, desperate little boy and smiles.

“Haru,” he says softly, slowly easing his cock into the welcoming warmth of his boy’s body and wringing a moan from Haru’s throat, “I’m joking with you. I love that you cannot resist us, that you are so responsive and that you crave our touches. Haru, I have no intention of punishing you if you can’t hold out. After all that’s happened, and as long as we’ve waited, I believe I’d be offended if you could!” He rolls his hips slowly, plunging his cock deeply inside Haru’s body, in no hurry to push either of them over the edge. When he sees Akihito coming back (managing not to laugh out loud at the sight of him, naked and _very_ erect as he runs back in from the bathroom, his pretty cock bobbing and still dripping with hot water), he slides his fingers gently into Haru’s hair, stroking the curve of his skull, then makes a fist and yanks the boy upright, one arm going around his chest to steady him and hold him firmly against his own body. Akihito grins into Haru’s flushed face and bends down to kiss him, messily and noisily, before he draws back and eases his cock between Haru’s lips. He closes his eyes and moans softly, then looks at Asami.

“I’m...ngh...not gonna be able to keep him quiet for very long,” he confesses ruefully, gasping when Haru does something really nice with his tongue. Asami rolls his hips back and then rams his cock brutally back inside Haru’s tight little hole.

“That’s all right, Aki-kun,” he says, a little breathless himself when Haru clenches and moans loudly around Aki’s cock. “This probably isn’t going to take much longer.”

And it doesn't. Haru feels the inescapable rise of almost too keen pleasure, and even though Asami has already given his approval, he instinctively tries to seek permission. But his mouth is full of Aki's cock and his aborted, muffled gesture serves a different purpose in sending Akihito over the edge. His mouth fills with the taste of Akihito come, and Asami angles into him with devious intent, and Haru comes hard, held along only by the iron bad of Asami's arm around his middle.

Almost as quickly, Asami groans, hilting himself so deeply one more time until Haru thinks their cocks might meet in the middle. He hangs breathless between them, dazed and lightheaded, and then Aki pulls out, and he gulps great breaths of air. He can't move yet, the rush of his climax still courses through him, leaving him wobbly and warm and sated. At least for now. His bottom feels all glowy too, and he finds the energy to wiggle it just a little against his Master's groin. Asami gives a soft laugh and eases out of him, and then gathers him up into his lap and gestures for Akihito.

Aki crawls up next to them too, and Asami squeezes them tight. They sit and breathe a moment in silence. "Round three?" Asami asks when their chests stop heaving.

"What? Already, you persistent pervert? Stay away from my ass for fifteen minutes, will you?" Akihito scrambles out of Asami's hold. "I really am hungry."

"Fine then, Aki-kun. You can serve lunch while Haru and I clean up. And watch your mouth or I'll make you wear a flight attendant's uniform while you do it."

Haru giggles and takes Asami's hand as he stands. They're still hours away from their destination, and this is already the best vacation ever.

 

There’s time for a round three, and four, before they collapse into an exhausted slumber. Asami doesn’t unpack the bag of toys he’s brought. This is about reconnecting, about simply celebrating the end of a terrible ordeal and coming out of it intact. Not just intact, but stronger for it. A few things have changed. He’s so proud of them, the way they worked together and overcame their captor. He can’t look at them as children anymore, and he has to admit to himself that he had been, at least a little. He’s very grateful that their childlike playfulness hasn’t been damaged. They _do_ keep him young, for all that Akihito had said it as a joke. They make him laugh, and take joy in things he’d believed he’d never enjoy again. But they’re men, too. Courageous, strong men, and he’s speechlessly grateful to have them by his side. He’ll still keep them safe, protect them at any cost. He can afford it, after all. But he trusts them to look after each other, and themselves, in ways he hadn’t before. They know it too. He can sense it in a new confidence he sees in both their eyes. Haru still tries a little harder than Asami wishes he would to be a good slave, but he expects that will always be the case. It’s just too important to him, and is too much a part of his nature to concern himself with every detail, with perfection. It’s what makes him a brilliant architect. His natural talent provides the innovation, the imagination, but it’s his attention to detail that takes his gift and makes it genius. But aside from that, he’s lost his hesitance, his fear that he himself is somehow lacking. They’d seen it when he’d met his ex-boyfriend for dinner, especially when he’d walked out of the restaurant full of people hand-in-hand with his older, male lover. He’s not ashamed or embarrassed anymore, and it makes him even more attractive.

So there will be time for the toys he’s brought. He’s seen Haru looking at the bag with an aching hunger in his eyes, Akihito with curiosity and interest. He’s eager for it too, to replace the mental image of the brutal wounds on their bodies put there by Murakawa with marks of his own. But he’s content to simply be with them now, to assuage the hunger of weeks without each other. The bed he’d had installed before the trip is more than big enough for three. One of the reasons he’d chosen this particular model for his personal jet had been its customizable interior. Without much difficulty, its two main seating areas can be changed in virtually any way he sees fit with a simple phone call to the company. The flight will take well over 8 hours, and he’d wanted them to be comfortable.

Thus his boys are reasonably rested and bright-eyed with eager excitement when the plane lands on the small, private airstrip on the little tropical island where he owns a large vacation property. He hasn’t been here since he purchased the place with an eye for its value as an investment, but he has faith that the recent renovations he’d ordered will have been completed to his exact specifications. Asami doesn’t employ people who disappoint him. Kirishima and Suoh see to the plane while Asami, Akihito and Haru dump their bags into a little four-seater electric cart with a small cargo bed in the back.

“Can I drive?” asks Aki excitedly.

“Not this time,” says Asami, ignoring his pouting face. “You don’t know where we’re going, and I want you to be able to enjoy your first sight of the place. But you and Haru can play with the ATV’s all you like. There’s another cart like this, as well as some 4-wheelers, on the island. I’m not absolutely sure, but someone might have arranged for dirt bikes recently as well.” He takes off down the pretty, crushed shell path, laughing at the sound of their excited cheers.

The island is so beautiful, thinks Aki, looking around with wide-eyed awe. He’s pretty sure he saw a parrot in one of the trees they passed back there (except Haru tells him there aren’t any parrots in French Polynesia and that is was probably something else), and there are actual mangoes and papaya and carambola just growing on trees and shrubs along the little path Asami’s driving down. It reminds him a lot of the place they’d stayed when Asami rescued him from the crazy Russians on Feilong’s ship. He hasn’t thought of it as being a rescue from Fei in a long time, since Feilong had decided to return him safely to Asami before the exchange was even arranged. Stupid Mikhail Arbatov and his crazy relatives. He shakes his head, refusing to let bad thoughts intrude. That vacation had been arranged both to give him a chance to recover from his trauma and to arrange for a passport to be acquired before he’d be able to go home. This vacation...it’s just a celebration. He’s really glad Asami waited to come here until he and Haru were better. Now they can just have fun, without any shadows hanging over them. As he watches a brightly-colored lizard dart across the path to escape them, he knows they’re going to have a blast.

Haru's mouth falls open when they finally make it to the property. They've stepped into a tropical paradise that looks so verdant and beautiful it seems unreal. Low bridges arch gently over clear, calm pools. A profusion of greenery and tall palms decorate the curving pathways, a subtle, warm lighting illuminates it to perfection. The expanse of blue sky that's deepened to a richer shade as the sun has lowered seems to go on forever. Haru can smell fresh fruit and the tang of salt water, and he inhales deeply. Through the palm fronds and low shrubs, the lines of a magnificent house can be seen.

"This whole place is yours, Asami-sama?" Haru's sure they must have been taken to a luxury hotel on the island instead. A _very_ luxurious hotel. The wonder in his voice makes Asami laugh. "This whole island is mine, sweet boy."

"Brag, brag, brag," Aki says, but he looks impressed too, and he grips Haru's hand, almost too overwhelmed to take it in stride.

"Are you two going to stand there speechless all night," Asami asks with dry humor, "or do you want to explore?"

Haru and Akihito grin at each other and take off running toward the house, whooping as they go. Their approach leads them through the garden and around the back of the house where they ooh and ahh over a large swimming pool with a natural stone waterfall. A huge set of french doors stand opens nearby, and inside an enormous, well-appointed kitchen awaits them. A huge bowl of fruits of all descriptions sits on the long marble bar, but they don't pause in their explorations.

There's something to exclaim over in every room, impossibly high ceilings, art, photographs, the lovely breeze that wafts in through open windows. But it's when they make it to a terrace that runs the length of the front of the house that Haru is lost. The ocean spreads out in front of them like a sheet of glass, it's so still and clear. The white, fine sands starts just where the terrace ends, and Haru and Aki stand still and just soak it in.

"Ohh..." Haru breathes. "Oh, Aki, isn't it beautiful? Let's go swimming!" He kicks off his shoes, and then spins around and beseeches Asami, who has caught up to them and now leans against a pillar with an indulgent smile quirking his lips. "Can we, Asami-sama? Right now?"

“Go ahead,” he says with a chuckle, and stays to enjoy the sight of them stripping off their clothes. Akihito pauses and looks over his shoulder suspiciously.

“Are you _sure_ there’s nobody else on this island?” he asks Asami, which makes Haru freeze and start to look around nervously.

“The house and island have a small staff,” he drawls carelessly, then has to stop to laugh at their comical expressions of chagrin and horror and the way both of them dive for their pants. “Stop! It’s all right. I dismissed everyone for the week. We have the entire island to ourselves, I promise. Well, Kirishima and Suoh are here, but there’s a caretaker’s cottage at the airstrip where they’ll be staying unless I need them. We’re as completely alone as my conscientious bodyguards will allow us to be. If we have need of anything, I can have people here in a couple of hours. Enjoy your swim,” he finishes, turning to go deeper into the house to check on his renovations, pausing when he hears Akihito mutter something uncomplimentary about his parentage. “I heard that!”

“Shit,” whispers Akihito, and Haru giggles.

They run naked as the day they were born down to the water and dive in with gleeful shouts. They race to see how far they can swim out and then float on the backs, staring up at the sky. The water is warm and so calm at the moment that it's like being in a gigantic bathtub.

"I bet the snorkeling is awesome here," Haru muses.

"Yeah, I'm sure they'll be equipment for that. For _everything_ ," Aki says.

"This is so amazing. I can't believe we're here." Haru's dreamy smile disappears when Akihito pinches him. "Ow!" He comes out of his back float and splashes water at Akihito. "What was that for?"

 

Akihito grins. "Just proving to you you're not dreaming."

Haru tackles him and they twist and turn under water, locked in a tangle, until they start laughing and have to come up coughing. They swim and ride the gentle swells until the bloated orange-red sun is halfway hidden by the horizon. "We should probably go back," Aki says reluctantly.

"Yeah." But they tread water until the last ray of the sun disappears before heading for shore. Haru dives beneath the surface, undulating like a sleek dolphin through the water, while Akihito paces him. He feels more alive more _himself_ than he has in ages. A pure joy like that experienced in the innocence of childhood sweeps through him in an exhilarating rush.

They burst to the surface and sling the water from their hair.

"Look! The stars are starting to come out," Akihito cries.

"Oh, I bet you can see so many from here!" Haru says eagerly. "Do you think Asami-sama will want to stargaze tonight?"

"I bet he will, especially if _we_ want to," Akihito adds thoughtfully.

Haru's hand slips into Aki's as they walk slowly back through the soft sand toward the house.

"Yeah...he's really good to us, isn't he?" His hand squeezes Aki's tightly. "I've never met anyone like him. Or you either. Aki...I...I love you so much."

“I love you too, Haru,” says Aki softly, tugging on Haru’s hand to pull him in for a kiss. They head back up to the house, and he notices that their clothing is gone. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. Asami is waiting for them, his tiger eyes watching them as they approach as though they are edible and he hasn’t had food for a while. Haru goes to him and falls gracefully to his knees. Asami’s fingers card through his hair, and for several moments he looks at Akihito. There’s something significant in the look they exchange, and Aki thinks he knows what it’s about. He’s been thinking a lot too, about how close they all came to losing things that are so important to them.

He’s shed his quintessential suit and is wearing a casual polo shirt and a pair of khaki pants, which is pretty damned casual for Asami. Aki intends to coax him into an even more casual mode before long. He’s too damn gorgeous to be real. It’s kind of funny how unbearably sexy another man’s forearms can be just because they’re usually kept covered up by dress shirts and suits, he thinks, watching the muscles in Asami’s arm shift as he strokes Haru’s hair while Haru thanks him earnestly for bringing them here. He catches Aki looking and smirks. Akihito rolls his eyes, and the smirk turns into a knowing grin.

“Please tell me you’re not going to keep us naked the entire week,” he complains, even though there’s something kind of decadent about the thought of it. “Not unless you’re going to do it too.”

“As appealing as the idea is,” says Asami, flashing a grin full of teeth that isn’t very soothing at all, “there’s a lot of sand here. I don’t think you’d enjoy having to perpetually rinse it out of sensitive places.”

“No thanks,” agrees Aki with a shudder, though Haru looks a little disappointed.

“You may choose between underwear, swim trunks, or shorts,” concedes their lover generously.

“No shirts?” demands Aki a little shrilly.

“I hope you remembered to pack sunscreen,” smirks Asami. Akihito winces. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty in the bathrooms here. Just don’t forget to put it on. I won’t go easy on you just because you were careless and got sunburned.”

“What if I don’t wanna unless you do?” challenges Akihito stubbornly, just because he has to. It won’t do to let the guy get too full of himself, think he’s got Aki under his thumb. His jaw drops when Asami shrugs casually and shucks his shirt over his head, dropping it negligently on the floor.

“That was the best idea you’ve ever had, Aki,” says Haru fervently, watching the way Asami’s abs flex when he moves.

“Go put some pants on,” says Asami, “It’s time for dinner.”


	23. Getaway - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's supper time! Something really HOT happens to Aki and Haru. And guess what's for dessert?
> 
>  
> 
> Fluff, then porn, and porn and more porn, and a little more fluff at the end. Asami's pretty much ruining his rep with this trip, but nobody's complaining much. Or at all.

Aki and Haru look at each other a little helplessly. Neither of them has the first clue where their rooms are. Asami takes pity on them and gives directions. They pad through the halls of the beach mansion, its hardwood floors cool beneath their bare feet. The Master suite is in the center of the big house, surrounded on three sides by huge picture windows with a view of the beach on two sides and the beautiful gardens on the third. Candles already glow softly, scenting the air. The bed is an enormous platform bigger than Aki’s old bedroom in his little apartment he’d had before that crazy stalker had threatened his life and forced him into Asami’s home and deeper into his life. A memory foam mattress easily a foot thick covers the heavy platform. Their luggage sits on the bed, and Haru insists they take a few minutes to unpack and put their things away in the drawers and cabinets and hangers in the huge, walk-in California closet. The bed, two bedside tables, and a small seating area are the only articles of furniture inside the bedroom itself, leaving it with an open, airy feel.

“I guess we could have saved room and left these t-shirts at home,” he says, patting Sponge Bob ruefully. Haru laughs and nudges him.

“Yeah, like you really mind,” he teases.

Aki pulls on a pair of loose, comfortable board shorts and nudges Haru back.

“Not if Asami’s really going to stay shirtless the whole time too! He’s always so...put together, you know? Sometimes it makes me feel a little...I don’t know...self-conscious I guess? When I’m all naked and...and desperate...and he’s cool as a cucumber in his three-piece suit. But...remember when you told me to just ask him to wear the handcuffs for me?”

“I remember,” says Haru, then his eyes widen. “You mean you did? _He_ did?”

“Yeah,” says Aki, smiling a little to himself as he remembers how Asami had understood what Aki had wanted, and had shown him his desire for Akihito. He recounts the story for Haru as his lover muses over boxer briefs or shorts and finally decides to mirror Aki’s choice. They wander back through the house in search of the dining room and Asami. It’s nearly full dark now, and the house is dim, with only a few lights on. It seems easy to get lost in this unfamiliar place with its rambling rooms.

“Out here.”

They hear Asami’s voice and follow it to an open set of sliding glass doors leading to a big stone terrace above the beach. The house is virtually surrounded by porches and terraces of different sizes and elevations. The only rooms without them, it seems, are the bathrooms and storage closets. There’s a low stone table surrounded by futons on this terrace, and a large array of raw vegetables, fish, shellfish and sauces on the table.

“Nabe!” cries Aki happily, hurling himself onto one of the futons and picking up the big set of chopsticks beside his plate.

“I thought you’d be pleased,” says Asami with a smile that Aki would almost call shy if he didn’t know the man. “And I thought you both might like to eat out here under the stars.”

He turns his head to find Haru's eyes shining at him. "You always know," Haru says softly, almost as if he's speaking to himself.

"Know what, sweet boy?"

"What we want," Haru says simply. "What we need."

Asami cups his upturned face and basks a moment in the naked adoration of Haru's expression. Maybe he's even earned it a little, he thinks to himself with wry and self-deprecating humor. In any case, he'll take everything both his boys offer without a qualm. They've all come too far for anything else.

"Ah, well," he says, with teasing tenderness he doesn't bother concealing. "That's my responsibility. And my privilege and pleasure."

Haru returns a soft smile and lets Asami draw him by the hand down to the cushions. "Maybe someday I'll be as good at it as you."

"Don't worry about that." Akihito smirks and points his chopsticks at Asami. "He's just fine with _taking_ what he wants."

Haru stifles a laugh as Asami pins Akihito with a mock-severe look that Aki cheerfully grins at and then pops another scallop into his mouth.

"You shouldn't worry, however, Haru. The both of you have a natural desire to please. Yes, you too, Aki," Asami says when the boy pauses mid chew to gape at him incredulously. "You know very well that you do your best to take care of me, to bring comforts to my day. You feed me, have hot baths waiting for me, tease me out of bad humor, and you do many other things which you may think go unnoticed. They don't."

Akihito flushes pink with pleasure, but looks away. "Jeez, Asami. I thought we were gonna eat."

Asami ignores his bluster to look at Haru. "And you, Haru. You want nothing more than to please those you care for. Sweet boy, you soak in everything and tuck it away. You discover ways to indulge us, all the while trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Be careful, pet, or you may find that we become exceedingly spoiled."

"Like you already aren't?" Akihito winks at Haru, who giggles, but shakes his head.

"I wouldn't mind." he takes a bit of heart of palm and eats the succulent treat with a look of pleasure. "I'm the one who's getting spoiled, Master."

Asami’s lips quirk in amusement at the very thought of what kind of indulgence it would take to actually spoil someone as anxious to please as this young man.

“I don’t think there’s any danger of that, pet.”

Dinner is more fun than a meal has any business being. It never ceases to amaze him how much pleasure Akihito can take in something as simple as cooking their supper one bite at a time in a pot of boiling broth over canned fuel. That it takes the form of a picnic under the stars delights both his boys so much he thinks it might be worth moving here just so they can do it all the time. It’s already rapidly approaching Winter in Japan, so al fresco dining is out of the question for a while. If it weren’t for the fact that both Aki and Haru take it upon themselves to cook for him and poke bites of food into his mouth, he’d probably end up a bit hungry, because he can’t stop just watching them. They chatter and exclaim over the succulent offerings. He’s only provided the best. Buttery sea bass, sushi-grade tuna, tiger prawns, tender sea scallops, and shirako. The vegetables are all very fresh, crisp and delicious.

By the time they’re sated, the moon has risen well overhead and the sky is like nothing any of them have ever seen. Aki and Haru drag their futons to either side of his and they end up tangled in a comfortable pile, both boys’ heads resting on his shoulders, while they stare up at the sky.

“There’re so many,” murmurs Aki, raising his arm and waving his fingers lazily in the air, as if he’s stirring the sky with them. “Like someone had a giant bucket of shine and spilled it all over the sky.”

“That’s beautiful, Aki,” says Haru. “Maybe you should be a poet as well as a photographer.”

“I’ve definitely got to take pictures of this,” muses Akihito, but he doesn’t stir to go and fetch his camera. “But not now.” He turns his head and presses his lips to the side of Asami’s throat. His tongue slips out to softly tease warm skin.

“Are you sure you’ve had enough to eat?” asks Asami, his voice very deep, so that Aki can feel it vibrating in his bones.

“Yeah, for now. Why?” He lifts his head and gives Asami big, innocent eyes. Asami chuckles and slides his hand down Aki’s back to dip his fingers under the waistband of his shorts, then does the same to Haru.

 

“Because I’m about to put out that fire and shove that table out of the way so nothing gets spilled,” he growls comfortably, squeezing handfuls of round, firm flesh. “Both of you get those shorts off and get on your knees over the edge of that stone railing there. Right now.”

He pushes them gently off of him and rises to move their supper things out of the way, dousing the flame of the little canned fuel so there’s no risk of it being overturned and catching anything on fire. The little bowl of fresh, grated ginger catches his eye and he palms it before turning back to see if he’s been obeyed.

Two little pale moons greet him, not as bright as the one in the sky, but certainly just as delightful to look upon. They wriggle a little as the two boys whisper together, unable to contain their curiosity and excitement.

Akihito nuzzles against Haru's neck, making him squirm even more. "You smell like the ocean."

"So do you." His pink tongue darts out and flicks Akihito's jaw. "You taste like it too. Or maybe that's the nabe and you're just a sloppy eater."

Their soft laughter echoes off the marble of the terrace, and they still, finally going quiet and settling over the low rail, lulled by the sounds of the lapping of the mild waves they can't see anymore and the kiss of warm breeze on their naked skin.

The sound of tandem gasps as he goes smoothly to his knees behind them and presses two cold, wet thumbs against two tight little puckers with unerring accuracy sends a frisson of desire through his body, the lust he always feels for them beginning to ramp up in anticipation of what’s about to happen. They sound almost exactly the same, shocked, quick inhales in the same key. Their recoveries are as predictably different as their initial reactions are the same. Haru lowers his head and moans softly while Akihito cranes his around and glares at him in mock affront.

“Hey,” he cries, “that’s _cold_!”

Haru feels it first. He’s a fraction more in tune with his body, and a fraction more attuned to Asami than Akihito. It’s simply his nature, more focused and introspective than his extroverted, heedless counterpart. Gods, he loves them both. Ridiculously. And loves owning them just as much. His teeth flash white in the darkness when Haru’s head snaps up and he gasps again.

“Wha...what’s… _Master_!” he cries in a whisper. Aki’s head swivels to look at him and then he stiffens and lets out a tiny moan. There’s no confusion in it though.

“Akihito recognises the sensation,” chuckles Asami, pressing his thumbs a little harder and rubbing a little, making sure the finely grated root and its juices coat tender, sensitive tissues thoroughly. He pushes the tips of both thumbs a little inside, twists a bit, and then takes his hands away, wiping them off carefully on a dampened hand towel he’d had at the table for messy fingers at dinner.

“The ginger from dinner. Ohh, you bastard,” whines Akihito, squirming a little.

“It burns,” whimpers Haru. There’s a thread of fear in his voice as the heat from the ginger warms his little asshole. He’s never felt anything like this before, and doesn’t know what to expect.

“It’s...ngh...oh fuck...it’s okay, Haru,” pants Akihito, lowering his forehead to where his hands grip the stone balustrade of the terrace. “It can’t really...nnh...hurt you. It only really burns when you clench, but it’s really ha...hard not to. It f-feels really...fucking good...if you rela..a..ax.” He moans raggedly, arching his back and lifting his bottom towards Asami. Haru, bless him, takes Akihito completely at his word and relaxes immediately. His rapid breathing slows and he lets out a long breath.

“Ohhh,” he whispers.

“It’s still going to burn you a bit, pet. When you get your spankings, you’re not going to be able to help but tense up sometimes, flinch when it stings your cute little round asses, clench in anticipation of the next blow...it will be a good lesson in accepting the pain your Master gives you with grace and utter submission, because when you fail...you’ll punish yourself. But I promise it won’t harm you. You may even like it. This one does, even when it hurts.” He grins and slaps Aki sharply on the ass. He cries out and curses softly, but he doesn’t stop squirming or raising his hips entreatingly towards Asami.

“Ha..H-how come I gotta get the same lesson,” he complains unconvincingly. “I’m not your slave!”

“It’s not a lesson for you, filthy little boy,” he growls affectionately. “I just like the way you squirm and whimper and try to decide whether you love or hate it and how your little hole twitches while you clench it on purpose because you can’t help it and how frantic your cries become as the juice makes that little pucker sting and smart.”

“Sadistic fuck,” snorts Aki, trying to hide a snicker because Asami’s right, damn it. Then he groans and writhes and gasps because oh shit, oh fuck it really does burn and he doesn’t know why he loves it but he does. Gods help him, he does.

Asami picks up the long set of chopsticks used for cooking with the hot pot set. They’re nearly two feet long, as big around as his little finger at the thickest end and tapering down to a point. They’re joined at the end by a string so that they’re easier to keep track of when cooking. He snaps the string easily and now has one stick for each hand. They’re not weighty enough to cause really intense pain, but they’ll sting badly enough. Intensity will come later. He taps the makeshift little switches against both rounded backsides a couple of times and then, with a practically demonic grin, starts to spank his naughty little boys.

Haru's gasps and sharp little cries spill out immediately. Normally, he's not nearly so noisy at the beginning of a such a switching. The chopsticks sting, to be sure, but not enough to throw off his composure. But he _hasn't_ adjusted to the unfamiliar burn making the inside of his clenching little hole sting too. His hips writhe as if they could escape the sensation, and each smack of the thin chopsticks makes his little furled pucker squeeze tighter, absorbing more of the ginger's juice into that tender flesh.

Oh, it _does_ sting, a heat that seems to settle in and smolder. And it's all very well to be told to relax, but it's another thing entirely to _do_ it, especially when he's too distracted by the unfamiliar burn to anticipate the snap of the chopstick against his cheeks.

Akihito is groaning and panting beside him, and not all of his sounds are of pain. Somehow it's those needful sounds that make Haru realize the heat that's begun to pool in his groin too. He tucks his head down and pushes his bottom higher and his hole twitches and flutters. He shudders and forces himself to do the opposite of what his body is saying. Grace and submission. Haru relaxes, for a moment, and the burn smooths out, warm and tingling and still _stinging_ , and _oh_...he gets it now.

And then the chopstick lands with a crack, and Haru yelps and clenches tight. "Ahh...Asami-sama," he whimpers, but his erection doesn't flag at all.

“You know this lesson on an instinctive level,” murmurs Asami, his gentle tone belying the steady strokes of sharp, biting sting across his cheeks and the backs of his legs. He neither slows nor gentles the assault, though he’s pretty sure the bamboo is going to give out in a minute. “You only struggle because it’s new, and unfamiliar.” A telling crack signals that his makeshift toy on Akihito’s side has surrendered to this rude use for which it wasn’t designed. Aki snickers. Asami raises an eyebrow and stands up. “Stay still, right there. Don’t move a muscle from those positions, and under no circumstances may you try to wipe off the ginger. Haru, think about this. I know that you trust me. The only thing that ever gets in the way of you yielding completely to anything I give you, no matter how hard it is, is _you_ , because you think too much. Worry about failing. Pet, the only way you fail me is if you didn’t try. You know I won’t give you anything you can’t take, nor task you can’t complete. Knowing these things, believing them, means all you have to do is act on that faith.” He turns towards the steps of the terrace that lead off the side facing the gardens, but pauses before he descends them. “Oh,” he adds, “and if you dare to apologize to me when I return, I won’t whip you anymore.”

He strolls down into the garden, in no real hurry because he knows the effect of the ginger will last quite a while, that they’re already powerfully aroused so his absence will only make that worse, and that he’s no intention of fucking either of them until the ginger _has_ ceased to burn. He selects a supple switch off one of the trees in the garden and cuts it off cleanly with his pocket knife, then trims off all the leaves and buds so that it is smooth. Swishing it experimentally through the air, he walks back to the terrace where his two squirming little victims await.

"Haru," the low murmur carries across the short distance. "Are you all right?" Akihito asks with a tinge of worry. "You've gone awfully quiet."

"Yes," Haru says just as softly. "I was just thinking about what Asami-sama said. And," he adds with a pained little shiver and a sliver of humor. "I'm trying _really_ hard not to move."

"Oh." After a moment of silence, Akihito says thoughtfully. "We must be nuts to stay here like this with ginger stuck up our ass just because _he_ said so. Can you imagine what we'd look like to any sane person?"

"Ha--ahh...ow..." Haru whimpers. "Oh, don't make me laugh. It hurts."

Akihito snickers. "Ow...I know...but it's kind of funny you have to admit."

"Yeah...but I don't care. I don't care what anyone thinks but you and Asami-sama." Haru gasps a little and his hips quiver, but he moans a little too, a wanton, raw sound. "It's...strange and good and, oh, I _want_ to. Don't you?"

There's another long silence before Akihito whispers, "Yeah."

"And...I don't want to worry anymore. I know I do that a lot, worry about messing up or not being good enough," Haru confesses. "I don't want to be like that anymore. I never thought about how it came across. How it makes it seem like I _don't_ trust him, like I don't have faith that he'll be there for me, that he'll help me, and be with me, and guide me. That's not how I feel at _all_. And I think I can see now it's a kind of selfishness because, really, I'm afraid for myself. So I...well, I just want to give him that faith. I don't want to hold back because I'm afraid. Does that make sense?"

“Yeah,” whispers Akihito, reaching across in the darkness to take Haru’s hand. “I didn’t trust him for a long time. I mean, it’s not the same for me, but...I still spent a long time sort of fighting against admitting how much I want this, love it. And now that I have, it’s changed so many other things too. Like he doesn’t treat me like a kid anymore. I don’t think you worrying has so much to do with him as it does other people who hurt you, who like, taught you not to trust your feelings or other people because it was gonna hurt if you did. But I don’t think that matters anymore.”

“No,” agrees Haru, thinking fleetingly of Issa and then marvelling when no bitterness follows the thought. How easy it is to simply let those memories go now. He hears footsteps on the little shell path and his heart races a little. He relaxes. And it’s easy.

Asami climbs the stair to the terrace and has to pause to just look at them for a minute. They’re almost ethereally beautiful in the moonlight, their fair skin seeming to glow. Instead of the rueful expression of apology he’s half-expecting to see on Haru’s face, he sees only trust, and calm acceptance. His body is relaxed. His erection shows that his desire hasn’t flagged in any way, but there’s no sign of fear or nervousness, and no sign of self-recrimination. He smiles, and walks slowly towards them, the switch waving gently. He can’t help but chuckle at the way both their eyes follow it. Aki’s are a little nervous, Haru’s hungry.

“Did you think about what I said?” he asks softly, looking down at them.

“Yes, Master,” says Haru softly. “I understand now. I’m ready.”

Asami’s smile widens.

“My good boy. Very well then, we’re going to continue this in the bedroom. Up now, both of you, and to the bed, face down. Hurry up now.”

Because it amuses him, he herds them along with little biting snaps of the switch on their bottoms and legs as they scramble to their feet. If he suspects they may dawdle a little on purpose, he doesn’t mind. It helps settle Akihito’s nervousness. He both loves and hates the switch, because although it’s different, its sensation reminds him a little of the cane, and he knows how badly it can be made to hurt. Asami’s playfulness seems to reassure him that’s not what this night will be about.

“Spread your legs, and raise your hips, get those cute little asses in the air for me,” he growls with mock ferocity. They do, both gasping a little because it’s impossible to assume the position he orders without tensing and flexing the muscles in their thighs and buttocks and the heat from the ginger flares. Its beginning to subside, but every time they tense up, it will still send a shock of heat stabbing inside them. He kneels on the bed behind them and uses the tip of the switch to tickle and tease the backs of their legs, their little round cheeks with dozens of red lines from the spanking with the impromptu little toy on the terrace, the shadowed valley between their cheeks which makes them gasp and whine a little, and between their thighs where it makes their _very_ hard cocks flinch and jerk a little, though he has no intention of striking them _there_.

The whipping resumes, and it hurts them more now. The switch’s bite is sharper than the slender bamboo rod’s had been, and makes it more of a challenge for them not to tense up. But Haru’s inner battle, it seems, has been won. He still does flinch occasionally, because the body’s response to being struck in that area is involuntary, but he relaxes again immediately, and he’s not afraid of the way the ginger feels now. It doesn’t take long at all until both of them are flying, riding the rush of endorphins brought on by the heat and their desire and the stimulation of the switch’s kiss. He doesn’t push them over the line into tears. Oh, he wants to see their pretty faces wet with their sobbing. His cock throbs in his pants when he thinks about it, but that’s for another night. Tomorrow, perhaps. He’s far too delighted with Haru to want to punish his victory over himself with that kind of pain. Not that Haru would necessarily view it as punishment at all, he reflects with a grin. Then he gives them his full attention.

He draws a thumbnail over the criss-cross of welts that decorates the rounded cheeks, the tender backs of thighs, and listens to them hiss and whimper. "Does it sting? Do your little holes burn, pets?" he asks with mock-sympathy. "Do your dripping, pretty little cocks need relief?"

"Yes!" and "Oh, yes, Master," are gasped out with pleasing alacrity. His mouth curls. Perhaps he doesn't want to see them cry tonight, but that doesn't meant he doesn't want them to suffer. At least a little.

"Too bad," he says callously from the foot of the bed. "Turn around--no, keep those stinging little asses high in the air. Crawl forward."

With one hand, he unfastens his pants and takes out his cock. Through sheer force of will, it's only half-hard at this point, but it won't take long for that to change. Not with his adorable little pets on hand and knees, punished bottoms lifted high, and glazed looks of need in their hungry eyes. They stare at him, waiting, until he lifts one brow, as if to say, "Well?"

They scramble closer, and Asami has to inhale deeply through his nose, making a Herculean effort not to groan. Two hot, eager little tongues work his flesh, lapping at the shaft, rolling around the head of cock with devoted enthusiasm. And, God, the filthy little sounds they make. Like it's the most delicious thing they've ever tasted. Like they're addicted. It's enough to send a perfectly sane man off the deep end.

He distracts himself from the deep throbbing ache of his engorged cock by flicking the switch at each pert ass one after the other. The resulting humming moans around his shaft only spur on his arousal, and theirs from the sound of it.

He makes the mistake of looking down at their faces and almost, _almost_ comes from the site of their wet, pretty lips stretching, vying for the privilege of tasting him, of pink tongues tangling.

Haru's brow is furrowed, his concentration total, but he yields to Aki as his shiny lips close around the fat head and slide down the thick shaft. Asami hisses, and Haru's dark little head ducks, and his tongue laps at Asami's heavy balls.

Asami curses, softly, almost silently, above their heads.

Haru is lost to anything but the task at hand, and the insistent throb between his legs and the burn of his ass inside and out. His body shudders and writhes under the snap of the switch. He loves it, loves being transformed into a creature of pure sensation, loves serving his Master, worshiping his flesh, taking his Master's lesson deep to heart. The submission makes his belly burn too, low inside, with a funny sort pressure different from everything else, an intense sort of tingle that just makes him want to supplicate himself even more to his Master. He moans, awash in a decadent, needy hunger.

When Asami tells them to stop, it almost doesn’t register in Akihito’s head. His brain is too focused on sensation. The feel and taste of Asami on his tongue. The sounds Haru’s making next to him, all his hungry, desperate little whines and whimpers that Aki loves so much. The way his backside stings with each fresh cut of the switch and the tiny, humming throb of the myriad tiny welts on his ass and thighs. The glowing warmth in his asshole, which doesn’t burn anymore but rather feels just sort of hot and swollen and good. He yelps when Asami yanks his head back by his hair.

“I said,” hisses his lover in a low voice, leaning down to look into his black-blown eyes, “stop, or I’ll remind you what a _real_ switching feels like.”

He blinks and looks up at Asami and moans softly, then blinks a few times and does his best to come back to earth. Asami arranges them to his liking and Akihito grows very interested in the proceedings after a few moments. He puts Haru up at the head of the bed with his chest and shoulders on the bed and his head cradled in his folded arms, his bottom pointed enticingly up in the air, Akihito on his knees behind Haru, and then Asami kneels behind Aki. The jar of lube is held out to him from behind.

“Get him ready,” growls Asami, leaning down to nip Akihito on the back of his shoulder. He gasps a little and dips two fingers into the silky substance, releasing the fragrance more strongly into the air, which wrings a soft moan from Haru. Aki gasps when he feels two of Asami’s fingers tickle his own tight little hole. The touch feels almost unbearably good on his hypersensitized tissues and he cries out when Asami presses those fingers inside him. “Better hurry, pet,” warns Asami. “Because you’re fucking him when I’m done with you whether he’s ready or not.”

With an alarmed cry, Aki snaps out of it and does his best to focus on preparing Haru’s asshole. It’s red and a little puffy from the juices of the grated ginger, and Haru writhes and moans under him as he fingers him open. He knows he rushes it a little, but he’s panting from the treatment he’s getting from Asami and he’s already scissoring his fingers wide inside Aki, making him whimper and bite his lip against the urge to beg Asami to just fuck him already.

"That's enough," Asami says shortly.

The jar bounces on the bed, and he murmurs something to Akihito that Haru can't hear. His hot, welted cheeks are spread apart, and Aki makes an exploratory little push with the head of his cock. Haru gasps as it pops through the burning little ring of muscle. He groans, with the fading burn of the ginger, it feels incredible, intense. Akihito groans too.

"All right, Haru? I...I'm just gonna...ahhh!" Akihito wails, his body falling forward over Haru, but braced above him on his quivering arms, which sends him balls deep into Haru and drives a wail from him too. "Shit, Asami!"

Asami shoves ruthlessly into Akihito from behind again, a dark laugh his only answer. Akihito's curse brushes Haru's ear, but Akihito begins to move with the rhythm Asami sets, his hair tickling Haru's back as he drives into his tight flesh again and again.

His snug hole clenches and spasms around the assault, feeling impossibly hot and swollen. Akihito's cock feels huge inside him, and Haru's hips arch higher, writhing with a will of their own. It's harder than Akihito usually fucks him, more callous. The incongruity is startling and incredibly hot, even if it's Asami-sama who's powering the scene, making them move to his rhythm, fucking the both of them. Oh, how Haru wishes he could see the picture the three of them make together, the movement.

Akihito cries out and Haru shudders from the residual power of the fucking Aki is taking. Oh, Aki's hole is going to be so _sore_. Haru moans, offering up his own tender ass for the taking, for solace, and for his own greedy desire, reveling in the cycle of it, the chain of painful pleasure that his Master has dreamed up for them.

It’s been so long. _Too_ long, since he just took either of them this way. The ruthless claiming he can’t get enough of. They’re more than ready, and he knows damned well that the ache and burn of it stokes the fires of their passions higher and hotter. Gorgeous little pain sluts. And his, all his, to take as he wishes. He rams himself into Aki’s hot little hole over and over. He can feel a little of the residual heat from the ginger, but the slight tingle of it only drives him harder and deeper. He hears the change when both of their cries turn critical, feels Aki’s tiny, snug little hole quiver and grip his pistoning cock harder than ever. He hisses and fucks him even harder, unashamedly _revelling_ in the boys pained, frantic, needy cries.

“Asami...oh...oh I’m gonna…,” he whimpers, shuddering.

“Master please,” begs Haru plaintively, “p-please may I...oh please…”

“Yes,” he snarls, fingers digging brutally into Aki’s hips, holding him just where he wants him so that he can _slam_ his cock into the howling boy’s sweet spot. He feels Akihito’s asshole clamp down so hard on his cock it’s nearly painful, feels the convulsive shudders of his release, and loses himself in his own release, his head thrown back and his spasming cock buried so deep up the boy’s exquisite little hole he’s not sure where he ends and the other begins.

Akihito's trembling body cages Haru's to the bed. Asami's powerhouse thrusts have driven him deep inside Haru's convulsing hole that continues to milk his orgasm dry. Haru has spilled all over the silky sheets, aided by the irresistible friction of the decadent fabric. He presses his hot cheeks against the cool, smooth covering and tries to catch his breath. His spread thighs quiver from the intensity of his climax, but he struggles to hold his position when Akihito's sweaty forehead drops to rest against his back.

The small movement makes Akihito's cock shift inside him, and he moans softly, an echo of the intense pleasure sending a little shock through him. A deeper moan spills from Haru when Asami pulls out of Akihito with a soft grunt, and Akihito's own withdrawal follows. The sudden removal makes him shiver, raising goosebumps on his crouched form, but Asami is there, drawing him away from the soiled sheets and tucking him beside Akihito on the huge bed. He snugs up against his lover and looks up his Master, giving him a slow, blissed out smile.

They’re almost to blissed-out and content to clean up, but Asami manages to issue a few sincere-sounding threats. They don’t have to know he feels too good to follow through with any one. Judicious application of a few warm washcloths means the exquisitely soft, perfectly clean white sheets will stay that way...well, sort of...a little longer. And that nobody sleeps in an uncomfortable wet spot, which is more of an issue with three people, even if the bed is the size of a small room. Asami situates himself between them and they’re tangled around him in seconds, sated and sleepy. Just as everything should be.

“After breakfast there’s something I want to show you,” he says softly, his fingertips toying with their tousled hair, “and then you can explore the island if you like.”

“Only if you’ll come with us,” says Haru stubbornly. Asami smiles in the dim glow left from the couple of candles that have yet to burn themselves out.

“Very well, since you insist,” he agrees. He’d meant to do some work, but after all, what’s the point of owning the company if you can’t take a few days off? He’ll send a message to Kirishima in the morning with instructions on what to do. And then, Gods help him, he’ll explore a damned tropical island. He shakes his head a little in amazement at himself. Maybe he should have packed a pith helmet and safari gear!


	24. Getaway - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day - a hint of what the night will bring and some smutty fun in the sun

Breakfast is fruit so fresh it can only have come straight from the trees outside, rice Akihito steams for them, tea, and some of the fish left over from last night thrown under the broiler for a few minutes until it’s crispy on the edges and flaky and good. Fortified, and immensely gratified to see that Asami seems to be making good on his implied promise as all he’s wearing are a pair of green cargo pants, they make fast work of the breakfast dishes and then turn to him expectantly. He grins wolfishly at the expressions on their faces and crooks a finger at them when Akihito asks what he wanted to show them.

He leads them through the house to one of the bedrooms that was closed off when they’d arrived last night. With a knowing smirk, he puts a hand on the door knob.

“I decided to bring you here a couple of days after you came home,” he says, continuing to smirk at their twin looks of bright-eyed interest, “once we knew you were both going to be all right fairly quickly. So I contacted a contractor I trust...the same one used by a mutual friend of ours...you remember Liliana?” He chuckles as Aki’s expression turns wary and Haru’s eagerness sharpens. “It’s been a very long time. Tonight, I intend to replace every single disgusting mark that pig left upon your bodies with one of my own. And I intend to do it in style.” He throws open the door. Akihito and Haru both gasp.

He’s had one of the house’s seven bedrooms converted into a dungeon even better than the one in the secret room at home. It’s bigger, for one thing, and more comfortably appointed with thick, plush carpet in a deep, rich cobalt blue. The walls are painted in very dark jewel tones of green and red and a matching blue, and the apparatus against the walls and centered in the middle of the floor are heavy black wood covered with buttery soft black leather. He chuckles at the way both of them breathe in the scent of it perfuming the room. Their wide eyes take in the twin heavy crosses mounted to the wall with removable brackets, the heavy spanking benches and wide, padded platform in the middle of the room suspended from heavy chains by a system of pulleys. There are bondage slings and matching sets of stocks as well. The walls are lined with dozens of black iron hooks from which hang more toys than the ones he’d brought along, an extra touch he hadn’t expected, and when he takes in the quality of them, he suspects Lily’s hand in them. He’ll have to call and thank her, especially when the boys, set free to explore the place, discover matching 4-foot signal whips coiled in velvet bags each embroidered with one of their names. The kangaroo-hide plaiting of Haru’s whip is black and blue, and Akihito’s is black and green.

Haru slips his hand around the hilt reverently, oohing softly over the gift. He cheeks flush a little, and he looks at Asami with transparent hope. Asami can't help laughing.

"Don't give me those eyes. We just ate. You need to let your food digest," he teases.

"I wasn't--" Haru protests and goes red. "Well, I didn't mean _now_."

Akihito snickers. "Sure you didn't."

Haru sticks out his tongue and carefully hangs the velvet bag back on the wall. There's so much to see and take in. There's no way Asami will be able to use even half this stuff on them in one short week. His heart skips beat as he considers that maybe Asami intends to bring them back here again, maybe with some frequency even. That there's two of almost everything hasn't escaped him either. And the message finally begins to sink in, even to Haru's self-deprecating little soul. Maybe the realization of his deepest wishes isn't so far off as he might have worried. Lost in his thoughts, he absentmindedly strokes the leather padding of one of the spanking benches and watches Aki clown around with the stocks.

"Haru?" A long finger tilts his chin up to meet Asami's penetrating gaze. "Are you all right?"

He smiles. "Yes, Asami-sama. This is amazing."

"Hm. It is good work." Asami surveys the space, but smirks. "But it won't be truly amazing until it's graced with a couple of nicely thrashed, bound up boys with red and teary faces, and their cries are ringing off the walls."

Haru's pupils dilate a bit and his cheeks pink, but he teases back. "And one sweaty, very sexy, shirtless Master with messy hair."

"That reminds me," Akihito says, coming to lean on the other side of the bench. "I've got to get some pictures of him like this. The wild beast in his natural habitat." Akihito flashes a saucy grin. "Bare chested, sweaty, prowling through the vegetation. Will you give me good poses, Asami?"

Asami grins at Akihito, showing lots of teeth.

“I will if you’re willing to pay for them.”

“Oh sure. Says the billionaire. You know I don’t have any money, asshole.”

“Yes,” agrees Asami, leering at him, “I do.”

Akihito blushes.

“Oh. Well...it’ll be worth it. I know you don’t really like having your picture taken but...will you?”

“I didn’t like having my picture taken when I didn’t know what gossip rag it was going to end up in. I trust you to use the ones you take of us only for our own enjoyment. Yes, Akihito, you may take your pictures. I won’t even make you pay for them. Much. Now go put on sunscreen,” he says, pushing off the big heavy cross he’s leaning against, laughing as they whoop and race out of the room, excited by the prospect of adventure. “And _shoes_ ,” he yells as he realizes assuming that’s an unnecessary warning might not be a good idea.

He’s lacing his boots when he’s swarmed by two excited boys with bottles of spf 15 and has it very thoroughly applied to every inch of his exposed skin...several times...despite his protest that he never burns. While this is true, he decides not to rob them of their fun. Besides, it’s the vanishing kind that doesn’t leave him feeling like a greased pig.

Their reactions to the garage when he flicks on the light are worth a good portion of his sizeable fortune. He’s glad he’s thought to turn on the camera Akihito hands him to carry for a minute while he shoves extra filters in his pockets, so he captures the open-mouthed delight at the sight of 3 Can-Am Renegade 1000 X xc ATV’s and 3 KTM 500 EXC’s. Haru goes straight for the Enduro’s and throws a leg over, pushing the bike upright and just sits there, running his hands lovingly over the handlebars and gas tank, grinning at Asami with sparking eyes while Aki darts back and forth and climbs all over everything.

“Which ones will we take?” he asks, even though he knows the question is moot.

“Oh let’s take the bikes,” begs Haru, looking back and forth between them with a hopeful expression. “Please Aki?” Asami chuckles that Haru knows which of the two of them might take some convincing. Aki glances up at him from his position bent over one of the ATV’s and smiles.

“Like you had to ask. I like them both, but I feel like it’d be worse than kicking a puppy to say no to that look!”

“Yay,” says Haru softly, beaming. Asami doesn’t have the heart to insist on helmets. The places they’ll be riding are too closed-in to allow for high speeds anyway, and he wants to feel the ocean breeze in his hair too.

"Eat my dust!" Haru cries before Akihito and Asami can climb on their bikes, and he shoots out of the garage with a grin splitting his face. Of course, he waits for them at the end of the long drive mainly because he has no idea where they're going. "The engine is so smooth and torquey," he cries when they pull up next to him. "And the suspension is _awesome_." He bounces a little in demonstration. "I read these are _killer_ for off roading."

Asami shares a look with Akihito and grins indulgently. "I'll take your word for it. Now, what was that you said about eating dust?" Asami takes off with a whoop that makes their jaws drop. They burst out laughing and quickly race off after him. He lets them catch up after a moment and they ride in fairly close formation along the ocean's edge until he turns off and heads up a trail leading into the jungle-like vegetation.

The boys exclaim to each other when they reach the top of a small hill and round the curve, a herd of small goats scatters down the hill away from them in all directions.

"Goats," Aki cries, when they stopp, poised on the crest of the hill. "Look, Asami, goats!"

"Why do you have a herd of goats, Asami-sama?" Haru asks with a comical look of bemusement.

Asami laughs. "They're not mine precisely. They're wild. Apparently goats were originally brought to the islands as a meat and milk source, but some escaped. They were left to run free, and well, they multiplied."

"Ah, too bad. Asami the goat herder!" Akihito doubles over laughing. "That could be your second career."

"I already have to look out for a couple of kids," Asami deadpans.

The horrible pun induces dramatic groans from the both his boys, and Asami takes advantage of their distraction to take off again down the hill. Haru soon passes him and shows off by jumping a small dry creekbed and popping a wheelie on the other side. This allows Akihito to whip past them both, and they spend the next half hour playing tag, trading the lead back and forth.

Eventually, Asami takes them deeper into the interior, pointing out interesting geographical details, and they wind over to the other side of the island where a flat headland spreads out from the edge of the jungle, crawling with lizards. It provides a spectacular view of the South Pacific, access to the white sandy beach below, as well as proximity to a view of the colorful birds perched in the tropical trees.

They park the bikes when the volcanic rock that makes up the island becomes too sharp and pitted for the bikes. Along one side of the headland a little finger of jungle juts out right down to the ocean, palms and tropical shrubs clinging to the stone itself. A series of crystal clear tidal pools as warm as bath water sparkle invitingly in the sun. Akihito unpacks his camera and spends half an hour in breathless delight as he photographs tiny crabs, colorful starfish, anemones and sea urchins against exquisite corals. Asami and Haru watch him, smiling. It’s impossible to see him so happy, so in his element, and not catch his happiness.

“He’s so talented,” murmurs Haru.

“Yes, he is,” agrees Asami. The expression on his face is one of inexpressible tenderness. It’s not a look he shows often. Haru leans against him, and Asami’s arm goes around him, drawing him close. “He’s worthy of so much more than crawling around in dirty bushes for illicit shots of crooked minor statesmen. I could prove it to him in a snap. I know people who would pay handsomely for the chance to exhibit his art, and it would be on his own merits, but he’d never believe I hadn’t bought them, bribed them. He’s afraid to try harder than he has so far. He sends the occasional piece to a gallery or small magazine, but he...well. Aki has never really known his own worth, not in anything.”

“He doesn’t see it,” agrees Haru, a little wistfully. “He doesn’t know how bright and amazing and...compelling he is. Or what an incredible ass he has,” he adds on the end with a delighted giggle when Aki bends over to pick up a pretty shell and his loose board shorts inch down, providing them an excellent view of close to half his little round bottom. Standing up, he hikes up his shorts and turns to glare at them. Asami chuckles. Akihito relents and laughs, sticking out his tongue, then beckons eagerly to Haru, who looks up at Asami.

“Go on,” he says softly, giving his boy a nudge. Haru clambers over the rocks and he and Aki crouch over the tidal pool, exclaiming over something Aki’s found. Looking quickly gives way to wading in the warm pools, which rapidly results in Akihito tripping Haru and pushing him into one of the deeper ones. Haru, whose timid days are far behind him, yanks Akihito in after him and soon they’re splashing each other and swimming. The pool is nearly as big as an actual swimming pool, and well over six feet deep in the middle.

“Take off your shorts and lay them out or they’ll never be dry before it’s time to head back,” calls Asami over the sounds of their laughter. Between wrestling and ducking each other under the water, it takes a good five minutes, but eventually two sopping pairs of shorts slap wetly against the rocks. His eyebrows go up when two pairs of boxer briefs follow shortly after.

Watching them becomes much more interesting to him after that, so he tucks his cell that he’d withdrawn to discuss some instructions with Kirishima back into his pocket and goes to sit on a tall outcropping of black, pitted stone about ten feet from the edge of the pool.

“Come swim,” urges Aki when he notices Asami’s approach.

“Yes, Master, join us, the water feels amazing,” wheedles Haru.

“I’d rather watch you,” says Asami, smirking at them.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be a stick-in-the-mud,” scoffs Akihito. “It’s not like you’re gonna melt.”

“I said,” Asami replies with a raised eyebrow and a significant look, “I’d rather _watch_ you. Entertain me.”

“Entertain you h...ohh,” says Akihito, although it’s obvious Haru catches Asami’s meaning immediately from the way a fetching blush stains his cheeks. He doesn’t look the least bit reluctant though, and is already reaching for Aki. Predictably, Akihito bucks up a little.

“What do you think we are? Your...your personal...porn stars? We’re here to fulfill your...disgusting urges whenever you snap your f-fi...ah, Haru!” He’s distracted from his rant when Haru’s hands slide around his hips and his mouth brushes the back of Akihito’s neck.

“You know better than that, Aki-kun,” says Asami, trying not to chuckle at his _very_ halfhearted attempts to stave Haru off. “It’s a request. Let’s call it a strong request. Because I’m inspired to some rather prurient thoughts watching the two of you swimming naked in that pool like a couple of little wild creatures and I’m…” He slowly runs his fingers down his own chest to the waistband of his pants and then molds the fabric against his own crotch to show them the evidence of his arousal, clearly outlined against the dark green cotton. “Inspired.”

Haru’s hands are gentle but inexorable as he turns Aki to face him and leans in to kiss him. Akihito finds it difficult to continue to protest while he’s returning the kiss enthusiastically, but when he can finally bring himself to push Haru back for a moment, he turns stubbornly back to Asami.

“Well if we’re gonna put on a show for your sick amusement...then...then you gotta show us something too,” he pouts. His eyes widen in amazement when Asami grins wickedly at him and thumbs open the top button of his pants. He slides his fingers down inside his waistband and runs them down the length of his slowly thickening shaft, letting his eyes fall closed for a few moments on a long sigh. Akihito and Haru’s mouths fall open in astonishment.

Haru stares at Asami with blatant fascination when he stretches out on the rocks like a lazing jungle cat. His sleek muscles shine in the sun as he settles into a deceptively relaxed pose, though his eyes are as alert as ever when he opens them and pins them with his hot, golden gaze.

"Come on, Haru," Aki breathes against his ear in a sudden reversal and startling Haru into an embarrassing little jolt. "If he wants a show, let's give him one." He pulls Haru into shallower water, until the water swirls around their hips and starts licking into his mouth with teasing little flicks that make Haru strain toward him, chasing Aki's tongue with his own.

Their bodies are slick and warm, and they trace their fingertips along the wet skin that's already picking up a golden sheen after the morning spent under the tropical sun. Haru moans when Akihito's hands dip into the dimples above the curve of his ass and then slide lower, cupping handfuls of rounded flesh and pulling him flush against his own hips.

Their cocks, buoyant in the clear water, slide against each other with silken friction. From the corner of his eye, Haru sees Asami shift, but he's distracted by Akihito's tongue snaking down his throat and then back up to flick into his ear. His skin pebbles, and his hips rock against Aki's in an instinctive rhythm.

Akihito gasps, but then Haru finds himself turned around, facing Asami on full display, and pulled back against Akihito's sun-warmed chest. Akihito's hands tease over Haru's abdomen, dipping into his navel, tracing the vee of his groin, circling Haru's pink, hardened little nipples without quite touching, and absolutely ignoring Haru's cock, which is just cresting the water rippling around them now that's fully erect. It bobs and slaps against the surface as Aki makes him shiver and writhe.

Haru's head falls back against Akihito's shoulders, his eyelids sliding to half mast. Oh, he groans when he sees how keenly Asami is watching them, and his breath freezes in his chest when he sees the picture Asami makes slowly stroking his magnificent cock in its full glory. His eyes fly wide just as Akihito's finger finally glide over his nipples and pinch. Haru whimpers and his cock throbs.

"Aki..." He grinds his round little butt against Akihito's groin and has the satisfaction of hearing him groan. His nipples are pinched again, harder, and Akihito's erection grinds against his bottom again and again, Akihito's breath hot against his ear.

It’s almost hard to remember what he’s doing when Asami unzips his pants and actually takes out his cock, with obviously no intent on joining them. For a man so collected as he to do something so human as to masturbate is astonishing. For him to be aroused enough by the sight of them touching each other that he can...and that he’ll allow himself to need to...is so startling that Aki can’t stop staring at him. He’s so fucking gorgeous. Haru keeps comparing him to some kind of god, and Aki tries to remember to blow that off because Asami’s ego is certainly inflated enough without them adding to it. But when he sees him like this, all that tawny skin gleaming in the sun, the definition of his muscles as perfect as some ancient Greek or Roman statue, so much sheer sexual magnetism in his eyes with their unique, compelling color...it’s hard to disagree with Haru. A bolt of pure lust lances through his belly, tightening it so suddenly it almost hurts, and he gasps. Asami’s lips curve into a smile, but it’s not the same overconfident, knowing smile he often gives them. It’s as lascivious as ever, but it’s a little self-deprecating and yet also manages to convey simple pleasure.

“Show me,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble Aki can barely hear over the hiss and murmur of the tide. “Touch him. Touch each other. _Show me_.

Holding Asami’s hot, heavy lidded gaze, Aki reaches around Haru’s hip and encircles his erection with his fingers. Haru leans his head back on Aki’s shoulder and cries out softly. He arches into the touch, his hips rolling, his backside rubbing back and forth along the length of Aki’s throbbing cock. Soon, it’s not enough, and they both turn to face each other so that Asami watches them from the side.

“Remember the day I spanked you in the kitchen?” he whispers to Haru, loud enough for Asami to hear them, as he tugs Haru’s hips close and his fingers stretch to encircle both their cocks together.

“And the first time you made love to me,” Haru whispers back, lifting his feet off the sandy bottom of the tidal pool to wrap his legs around Aki’s hips and lean back, floating, trusting Akihito implicitly to hold him up. Aki gasps a little at the show of trust, given with no more hesitation than Haru trusts Asami. It’s more than just staggering, it’s _humbling_. Haru makes him feel about a hundred feet tall all the time. He never feels small or weak or dumb or out of his depth with Haru, the way so many of the people in Asami’s world have always made him feel. He never wants to lose this. Any of it, he thinks, turning his head from the beautiful sight of Haru coming slowly unravelled before him to the breathtaking sight of Asami watching them and touching himself. For them. Because of them. Can’t, in fact, bear the thought of missing one single moment of it for the rest of his life.

Haru's arms undulate in the water, fanning back and forth as Akihito touches them both. It's indescribably erotic. The lapping water, the sound of wet flesh being stroked, soaking up that vibrant rays of the hot sun, knowing that Asami is taking in their every act, taking his pleasure.

It's too bright to be a dream, the bliss too sharp, too _real_. His happiness is so intense it almost hurts, his head turns, one ear fills with water, partially muting the sounds around him, but he drinks in the sight of his impossibly gorgeous Master, whose face flickers with the strain of his self-indulgence.

And then Akihito bends, their hips separating, sending Haru slightly adrift. Akihito licks up Haru's glistening cock that rests on his tensing belly. _Oh, God._ Haru sucks in air and his heels catch on Akihito's round ass and tug him back in. He surges up and latches onto Akihito, seeking his mouth with a hungry, wanton, open-mouthed kiss.

He rocks against his lover, legs locked around his waist, and Akihito fists both their cocks again, squeezing and stroking the slippery shafts as their tongues roll and tangle. "Aki...Aki..." he pants as he's worked closer and closer to the edge of his climax. "Feels so good. You feel so good. Please...please don't stop." His nails dig into Akihito's shoulders, and he burrows his face into Akihito's salty neck and smothers another moan.

“Look at me,” growls Asami softly, his voice hoarse with restrained desire, “look at me and don’t look away.”

They obey him instantly, heads turning, black-blown, lustful eyes riveted to his own, and oh gods if that’s not as arousing to him as the sight of them, their lithe little bodies straining for their pleasure. His breath catches when Haru moans softly, hungrily, and Akihito whines and his chest hitches.

“Asami,” he cries frantically and,

“Master please,” gasps Haru, back bowing even further, hips straining.

He feels pleasure rising up to drown him, his balls drawing tight and his belly burning. That Haru begs his permission is such a heady feeling that it pushes him over the edge.

“Yes,” he growls through his teeth, eyes steady on theirs as pleasure spikes hard and then suffuses through his body, his seed pumping out of him onto black rock and sand. Akihito shouts and Haru cries out helplessly not a moment later.

He clings to Aki, and they both sag down into the water to catch their breath. Their gazes are still locked on Asami, mesmerized by the rise and fall of that perfectly sculpted chest. A small sigh of loss slips from them both when he tucks his softening cock back inside his pants and smirks down at them.

"Come on, you little nudists. Let's have some lunch." He holds a hand out to each of them and helps them clamber from the pool.

They shake off like puppies, laughing as the water sprays everywhere, while Asami pulls a blanket from his backpack and spreads it on the ground on a flat sunny spot near the edge of the headland. The vista is phenomenal. Haru spins around with utter abandon like he's in some perverted version of _The Sound of Music_ , and Akihito joins him. Their laughter is bright and happy. Even Asami laughs outright, though he declines to join in.

When Asami calls them again to eat, Haru catches Akihito's hands and whispers quickly and a bit nervously. His stomach is full of excited butterflies. "Aki, I need to talk to you. Soon, okay? And alone. When Asami-sama's busy. All right?"

“Sure, Haru,” agrees Aki easily, then glances at him. “Nothing’s _wrong_ is it?” Just the thought of it makes his stomach tighten and his mouth go dry.

“No!!” hisses Haru fiercely, squeezing his hands tightly. “No...Aki, everything’s _wonderful_ , I promise. Just...soon, okay?”

“As soon as we can,” he promises, and they walk over to where Asami’s finished spreading the blanket and is laying out food. Aki breaks away from Haru suddenly and leaps over the rocks like an awkward gazelle, making them both laugh at him and exchange bewildered looks which change to knowing smirks when he reaches the tree line and clambers up a tree not at all unlike a monkey. He returns with his arms laden with mangoes and drops them gently on the blanket.

“There,” he cries triumphantly. “I, the great hunter-gatherer, Akihito-kumbo have provided sustenance for my hungry mates!” He bangs on his chest and grunts, then yelps when Asami yanks him down onto the blanket.

There’s more fresh fruit in the little cooler in Asami’s backpack, although it is admittedly not as fresh as the mangoes Akihito has provided, which are very fresh indeed and leave juice pouring down Aki and Haru’s chins and throats, which Asami licks off of them, leaving them a little breathless.

“I want to know how you got sushi when there’s nobody on this island,” says Akihito suspiciously, although it doesn’t slow him from cramming it in his mouth.

“I have my ways,” says Asami serenely, taking a much more sedate bite of food and winking at Haru.

“So that’s why I thought I heard a helicopter really early this morning,” muses Haru, popping a piece of Akami in his mouth and sighing a little at how good it tastes. “Asami-sama?”

“Yes?”

“Are you really going to...to play us tonight?”

Aki freezes with his chopsticks partway to his mouth. He’d forgotten all about that in his enjoyment of the day. He stares at Asami as an absolutely filthy smile slowly blooms across his handsome face. His golden eyes gleam wickedly in the sunlight.

“It’s been far too long, wouldn’t you agree?” he asks, taking Haru’s hand and licking a grain of rice off his fingers.

“Oh yes,” sighs Haru. Aki feels his heart start to beat faster as he thinks about it. He wants it too. Oh, he does. But he’s nervous about it too. How will it be, after what Murakawa had done to them? What if he’s not able to enjoy it anymore? What if it...reminds him too much of the torture they were put through? He starts a little when a big hand comes to rest on his smaller one.

“Do I know you, or not?” asks Asami softly.

“Yeah,” replies Aki after a moment, and just like that, the doubts and fears are gone. He hasn’t always been sure Asami wouldn’t hurt him, but that fear is far in the past. This is the man who knows his body better than he does himself. He leans against Asami a little and smiles at Haru. “You do.”

Haru smiles back. It isn't hard to guess what kinds of things Akihito was thinking. He still has the occasional shadow from that time too, but he knows that Asami-sama will take care of them. He always does. With a sigh of perfect contentment, Haru falls back on the blanket and stares up at the blue sky. He's definitely going to talk to Akihito as soon as he can.

He gets his chance when they get back to the house. Asami gets a text from Kirishima that requires a return call. He promises not to take more than an hour or so, so Haru and Akihito take a walk down the beach, hand in hand, just soaking up the pretty scenery.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Akihito asks eventually, when it doesn't seem like Haru is going to broach the subject again.

Haru immediately turns red, looks quickly at Akihito and just as quickly away again. He breaks away and takes a few steps forward in the wet sand. "Well," he takes a deep breath and turns to face Akihito. "I've been thinking a lot...you know...since what happened."

Akihito nods encouragingly. "Yeah, so I have I."

"Really?" Haru asks with cautious hope. He wonders if Akihito has been thinking of the kind of things he has since then.

"Yeah, it was...intense. It made me realize some things," Akihito answers slowly.

"Me too!" cries Haru. "I've been thinking a lot about everything. And...well, I just...I wanted to ask you something. To see what you thought about it."

"So ask me." Akihito grins. "Why are you beating about the bush?"

Haru blushes again, and bites down nervously on his bottom lip without realizing he's doing it. But somehow, now that he's getting ready to say the words, he feels unaccountably timid. Akihito is waiting, though, bright curiosity in his gaze.

"Answer me honestly, okay?" he demands. "Promise?"

"Yeah, of course," Aki says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now spill it."

"Okay, well, you remember how we talked about it that one time? How if...when I wanted to ask Asami-sama if I could...if he would give me a _permanent_ collar?"

Understanding blooms on Akihito's face and he gives a gentle nod. "I remember."

"To be honest," Haru laughs nervously. "I thought that maybe I'd never be able to ask. That I'd never be able to work up the nerve because I wouldn't be _ready_. I mean, you saw those other submissives at the club, Aki. They were so...so polished and perfect and gorgeous. Even that poor slave Murakawa was with that night--he was amazing. And I was worried that I wouldn't ever be able to live up to what Asami-sama deserves. You know? That _I_ didn't deserve it. But now...after all that, I just...I want it so much, Aki. Even if I still have so much to learn." Haru's eyes and voice drop. "I want him to be my Master forever. I want to be with both of you like I've never wanted anything else before. But maybe...maybe I was a little afraid that if I asked, and he said yes, that later you might change your minds. And that...I didn't think I could take that. It would..." Haru's shakes his heads and huffs out a short breath that's half laugh, half sigh. "Well, nevermind. It doesn't matter now. I just want this so badly I can hardly breathe when I think about it. But...but if you think he doesn't think I'm ready, or that it's the wrong time, too soon, or if _you_ don't think it's a good idea...well, just tell me straight up, okay, Aki?" He looks up and meets Akihito's gaze, naked vulnerability shining his eyes.

Akihito looks very solemnly at Haru for several very long heartbeats, then he bursts out into his bright, bell-clear laughter and throws his arms around Haru, who is a little stiff at first and then finally relents and hugs him back.

“Oh Haru,” he says breathlessly when he can talk again, “I don’t think it’s a good idea…” He can only bring himself to pause for a split second before he relents because really it would be cruel and he’s never cruel. “I think it’s a _great_ idea.”

“Really?” gasps Haru, after he stops looking like he’s suffering from heart failure at Aki’s first sentence.

“Haru...I haven’t talked to Asami about this yet, but I was planning to anyway. I’m really glad you brought it up now, because I know the desire for it needs to come from you, but I was gonna try to figure out how to drop enough hints to make you figure out it was time. None of those other slaves at the club could hold a candle to you, and you hadn’t had a tenth of the training or whatever that they had. You’re better just the way you are than all those others put together. Don’t look at me like that, it’s true, and Asami thinks so too. I know he does. You...you’re really sure?” He ducks his head and peeks up at Haru shyly through his ridiculous bangs. “You mean it? You want to be with us forever?”

“I really mean it,” whispers Haru, and the sincerity in his shining blue eyes can’t be denied.

“I want that too,” confesses Akihito, and then he can’t stop himself from trying to cover Haru’s whole face with kisses, until they finally end up with their mouths locked together. Eventually, he pulls back and they stare at each other, smiling foolishly and panting a little. “I wonder how many politicians Asami would have to kill or arrange to have tortured to both legalize gay marriage and polygamy,” he muses. Haru laughs at him and smacks him on the arm.

“Stop, you’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, I’d draw the line at the killing part,” he agrees reluctantly, hitting him back, and then grins unrepentantly. “I’m serious though. As crazy as it sounds. If I could I’d...I'd marry you, Haru. Both of you. Oh my God, did I just say out loud that I’d agree to be Asami’s wife? Please tell me I didn’t say that?”

“He’d probably say you had, but I completely support our rights to all be husbands,” says Haru loyally, and then they’re laughing again. Akihito looks up and sees Asami watching them from one of the terraces.

“I’ll talk to him, okay?” he whispers. “He said he wants all of us to have some one on one time together. So...let’s ask for it to be my turn tomorrow. I don’t...want to have to wait longer than we have to.”

“I don’t want to know what his answer is,” says Haru a little shakily. “I think...that’s part of it. For the slave. To...to ask without knowing the answer will be yes. To...be willing to take the risk, no matter what.”

“Okay,” says Akihito, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “I mean, I know what he’s going to say even if you’re worried about it, but I told you when the time came I’d talk to him, because he and I have some stuff to talk about first. And then...then I’ll help you get ready, if you want. Okay?”

Haru nods mutely, happiness squeezing his heart so hard he doesn't think he can speak without his voice sounding embarrassingly wobbly. Akihito gives him an understanding, lopsided smile and then grabs his hand and starts running pell mell on the sand back toward the house and Asami, their shouts of laughter echoing after them.


	25. Getaway - Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now it's time to play! Asami's ready to put marks of his own design back into the skin of his boys' bodies. The scene is a little intense, but far from the most so they've had, and is perfect for all of them. With a perfect capper!

"We can have the signal whips first," Akihito says generously. He pops one leg over the edge of the hammock and pushes against the marble of the terrace with his toes, sending them swinging again.

"No, that's not fair," Haru protests. "We took the bikes today for me."

"Well, I like seeing the look on your face when you get something you really want. It's kind of adorable. Your nose sort of scrunches up in excitement," Akihito snickers.

"It does not!" Haru denies.

"Oh, it does, and it _is_ too fucking cute," Akihito insists. "So you can definitely have the signal whip first."

"Do I have anything to say about it?" Asami is suddenly there, leaning against a tall, white column, his brow arched in a manner that's supposed to look intimidating, but they can both see the amusement in his gaze.

Both boys offer up sheepish grins. "Of course, Master," Haru says, but Akihito can't help a bit of cheek.

"Oh, did you want us to use it on you too?"

"Brat. I can see you're going to need an extended session tonight to remind you of your manners."

"Aki did seem really interested in the stocks earlier," Haru supplies with an angelic smile.

Akihito gives Haru wide eyes.

“Traitor,” he gasps in mock outrage. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“I’m on everybody’s side,” says Haru with a cheeky grin, poking Akihito in the belly and making him squeak in a very embarrassing way.

“I think it would be interesting to put both of the stocks face to face so that all both of you can reach is each other’s mouths. Just enough to kiss. Not even as deeply as you’d both probably like. And then I can torture both your helpless little backsides as long and as terribly as I like.”

Both Haru and AKihito gasp, but there’s a lot less outrage in the sound of it than either of them are probably trying to pretend, and Haru squirms a lot more than simply shifting his weight in the hammock could account for.

“Actually, if anybody out here is in the mood for being honest instead of a smartass, I’d be interested to hear it...if there’s anything either of you would really like to have tonight. Or not have.” His face darkens momentarily, then smooths out again and he looks down at them. “Come inside with me and let’s talk a bit, hm?” He turns and vanishes back into the house, not waiting to see if he’ll be followed.

Akihito doesn’t have the heart to try feigning offense at his high-handed ways. There’d been something nearly hesitant in the way he’d spoken, and Aki doesn’t want Asami to be worried about this, about them. He and Haru exchange a glance and hop out of the hammock...or try to. It turns out that two people can’t hop quickly out of a big hammock without a lot of flailing. Then, snickering at themselves, they hurry after him to the big living room at the center of the house. Asami is waiting there, sitting in the middle of the sectional sofa. It strikes Aki as he slides down beside his older lover how much Asami really has changed since they met. Asami would take the biggest chair in any given room. The biggest _single_ chair, the one placed to put him in the most advantageous position. The position of the most power. Now he automatically chooses a seat where Aki and Haru can both sit beside him, unless there’s a good reason not to. He kind of loves Asami more for it. 

Asami stops Haru from lowering himself to the floor and tugs him gently down onto the sofa beside him.

“Not this time, sweet boy. I want you both here with me for this talk, all right?”

“Of course, Master,” says Haru softly, smiling and taking the hand he’s offered.

“You’re not getting ready to ask us if we’re up to this, are you?” demands Akihito, more shrilly than he’d intended, because he’s seen Asami worrying about them for weeks and he’s more than ready for it to stop.

“No,” says Asami firmly, threading the fingers of his other hand firmly through Akihito’s. There’s another change. He’d never have given up the use of both hands before. He’d have kept at least one free to be able to go for his gun. “I saw the way you both looked at the things in that room. I know you’re ready.”

“Good,” says Aki, nodding in satisfaction. “I’d hate to have to kick your ass.”

“Perish the thought,” agrees Asami fervently.

“Then what’s wrong, Master?” asks Haru curiously. He’d seen the hesitance on Asami’s face too.

“I don’t believe anything’s wrong, precisely. This is something we haven’t talked about, but I think we need to. I want to know before we start if there was anything Murakawa did to you that might cause bad feelings to arise if I do something similar tonight.”

“Nothing like a good flashback to ruin a scene, huh?” asks Aki a little more snidely than he intends.

“Will you take this seriously, please?” asks Asami, looking at him coolly. Aki winces.

“Yeah, sorry. Just...whistling in the dark a little, I guess. It’s not really fun to think about.”

“I know it isn’t, and I’m sorry to ask you to do it, but a flashback is exactly the kind of thing I want to avoid.”

“I really don’t think that’s going to happen,” says Haru earnestly. “Everything about you is just completely different from everything about him!”

“Haru’s right,” agrees Akihito earnestly, putting his other hand on Asami’s arm. “He was so terrifying because he was fucking crazytown, you know? He...he wasn’t ever _playing_ us. He was...p-punishing us for...shit he’d made up in his own head.”

“And there wasn’t any comparison between the things he used on us and the ones you use. Yours are designed for play,” says Haru sincerely, looking earnestly into Asami’s face, “and his were designed for harm.”

“He…” Aki says, swallowing hard around them lump in his throat when he recalls it, “he figured out how I felt about canes.” He lays his forehead against Asami’s shoulder and can’t suppress a soft shudder of horror at the memory. “And that’s what he used on me the most. I know I don’t have to worry about that tonight, because you’re not punishing me.”

“Akihito,” says Asami a little hoarsely, lifting his chin up on gentle fingertips. Aki looks at him and is aghast to see aching sorrow in Asami’s eyes. “You _never_ have to worry about that again. I gave him something to use against you that would hurt and terrorize you more than he’d have otherwise been able to, because I made you fear the cane. I’ll never use one on you again. _Never_. You have my word.”

Aki’s lips part in surprise.

“Asami you...you don’t have to...it’s not your fault! And...and I might do something really dumb like driving drunk or getting kidnapped on purpose again!” But there’s naked hope in his eyes, because he’s thought about it since they’ve been home from their ordeal and he’s wondered how he’d be able to handle it if Asami ever punished him again. He didn’t think he could deal with the cane again, not without completely freaking the fuck out. Asami’s mouth twitches up at the corner.

“I’m almost entirely positive I can make you very, very sorry for your poor choices without the use of a cane if it comes to that,” says Asami with a soft chuckle. Aki shifts in his seat a bit and grins ruefully.

“Oh. Ah...um, yeah. I guess you probably can.”

“I promise, Akihito,” persists Asami, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Thank you,” whispers Aki, tears standing in his eyes.

“What else did he use? Perhaps it would be wise to leave those implements off the menu for our first session since your return.”

“He had this awful flogger with knots in it,” says Aki, shuddering a little, but without the genuine terror he feels when remembering the cane. “But you’ve never used anything like that anyway!”

“Still, no flogging,” says Asami firmly.

“Well, and you can cross electrical torture right off your plans. I know it’s gonna disappoint you, but…”

“Brat,” says Asami fondly. “And yes, that was at the top of my list. Well, I’ll get used to disappointment. Anything else?”

“He...he did use the whip he used on that poor boy at the club when we were all there together,” says Haru reluctantly, “but oh Master please, _please_ don’t take whips out of the...the rotation or whatever you want to call it. It…” He looks at Aki a little desperately, because Asami can be pretty insistent when he says he’s going to do something.

“It’s not the same thing at all,” he says quickly, latching on to something Asami himself had told him about whips. “That was a bull whip. The whips Asami has are signal whips. They’re from dog sledding, not cow herding. It’s completely different!”

Asami’s lips twitch.

“Hm. I believe I have to agree with Akihito’s expert assessment. Completely different. Besides, it would be rude not to try out Mistress Liliana’s gifts.”

“Very rude,” agrees Haru, nodding emphatically. Asami chuckles and puts an arm around him, pulling him close for a hug, and presses a kiss to the top of his shining black hair.

“Heaven forfend we should be rude,” he murmurs, shaking his head a little. “Very well. Is there anything else?”

Akihito and Haru look at each other and then, as one, shake their heads. 

“Then are you ready to begin?” he asks, standing up. He turns back to look at them and holds out his hands.

Haru slips his hand into Asami's much larger one. A swift jolt of adrenaline makes his insides squirm as Asami leads them into the dungeon room. Despite his jittery anticipation, he does his best to be calm and still while he waits to see what's in store for them first. He's not _really_ disappointed when Asami walks right by the pretty velvet bags without a glance. He's pretty sure they'll get there tonight at some point. Besides, whatever Asami-sama does to them is always pretty fantastic. He catches Asami looking at him with a knowing grin, and Haru can't help but grin a little unrepentantly. It's Asami-sama's fault anyway that he likes the whip so much.

"I think I'd like to see you stretched out on these crosses tonight," Asami muses. "Yes, that way you won't have to worry about anything but what I'm giving you." He beckons them casually, but his penetrating gaze carefully catalogs their reactions as he directs them to strip, then fastens them at wrists and ankles to the imposing wood crosses. Alert to the slightest sense of discomfort or apprehension. "All right?" he asks in a quiet voice, and they murmur their yeses.

"I'm going to warm you up first." The considering, serious note to his voice is still there, but it's laced with a kind of devilish humor as he saunters to the implements on the wall. Haru and Aki both strain to see what catches his interest. "Be still," he murmurs, with just a hint of warning.  
Haru quickly turns his face forward and takes a shuddering little breath, his blood already racing. Asami takes his time. It's agonizing and delicious at the same time, waiting naked and spread-eagled on the cross, not knowing what's coming, only that it's going to feel so good...and probably hurt so bad before all is said and done. He wants to tug at the cuffs securing him to the cross, not to try and get away, but only to emphasize to himself his willing helplessness, the reality of his submission. His cock swells a little as he thinks about his Master surveying the tools that he uses so skillfully and selecting the one that he wants to mark him with that night. That Asami wants to, wants _him_ still stuns Haru.

His belly burns with the warmth of his arousal, and still Asami hasn't even come near him. An erotic shiver tingles down his spine and he twists just barely in his bonds, unable to keep completely still. Oh, this is nothing like Murakawa. It never could be.

When he’s made his selection and approaches, Aki tries to crane his neck around to see what Asami has in his hands, but a sharp warning makes him jerk his head back around to face frontwards. He’s filled with an odd swelling of pride to see that Haru hasn’t moved since Asami told him to be still. Aki knows Haru’s just as eaten alive with curiosity as he is, but his Master has told him to be still.

 _You see_ , he thinks, _you ARE ready!_

But then Asami is there and he has no more time for thinking about Haru. He jerks in shock when the toy Asami has selected touches his left shoulder. It’s nothing he’s ever done before and Akihito is completely unprepared. Exquisite softness brushes his skin and then gently strokes down his back. He writhes in his bonds, unable to help himself. This time when he twists and turns to try to see, Asami lets him, holding up his hand. A rabbit fur is draped over his hand. He grins devilishly at Aki and then very slowly runs the silky fur down his back from the nape of his neck to the back of his thigh. Gooseflesh prickles in its wake and Akihito squirms again.

“What’s….” he gasps, but his words are cut off by a yelp when the exquisite caress of the fur is followed by a sharp spank from Asami’s other hand on his bare backside. He forgets what he was going to say and groans instead. Oh, the man is the very devil himself. The delicious torment continues. Unbelievable softness touching his skin, sometimes a single stroke followed by a stinging slap to his bottom, sometimes the caressing goes on for several moments before he’s struck again. There’s no pattern, so he can never learn what to expect. It’s maddening, and it’s perfect. Aki loves being petted. He’d never admit it out loud, not in a million years, not under torture, but oh, he does. And he loves it almost as much when Asami spanks him with his hand. Getting both at the same time rockets his brain into orbit so fast it makes him dizzy. He can hear poor Haru panting softly as he strains in his bonds. It must be driving him wild, wondering what’s going on, but he doesn’t move, even though all he’d have to do is turn his head to the side to see. Akihito doesn’t know how long Asami spends with him. Two minutes or ten, his already fevered mind cannot determine. 

Asami rubs the fur across Akihito’s rosy-red bottom one more time for good measure and then turns to Haru. The poor boy is trembling in his restraints, not from fear, but from eagerness, and from madness at not knowing what is happening. He steps to the other cross, positioned right next to the one to which Akihito is bound, and leans down to whisper in Haru’s ear.

“Ohh, my beautiful little pet, I am so pleased with you right now. You’re about to go crazy with wondering what’s happening, and you could have satisfied your curiosity with the tiniest turn of your head. But your Master told you to be still and you have obeyed me and I’m so proud of you, Haru. You don’t have to be still anymore, sweet boy. But keep your eyes front, pet, and feel what I’ve been doing to our Aki.”

With a flick of his tongue to the rim of Haru’s ear, which has reddened with pleasure, followed by a gentle nip, Asami shows him.

Haru gasps when Asami's hand touches him. He'd been half-expecting a smack, but the soft fur is almost equally startling. He soon relaxes into the stroking and the warmth of Asami-sama's approval. The thick, fluffy pelt feels heavenly against his bare skin. It goes on for some time, Asami petting him from nape to spine, drawing up and down his arms, over his bottom. Haru doesn't realize he's making a soft humming sound of pure contentment until Asami murmurs in his ear again.

"Are you purring for me, little pet?"

"Mmm..." is Haru's languid and not very proper response, but Asami laughs softly.

"You sound so adorable I _almost_ hate to do this."

Asami's large hand catches him on the fullest part of his bottom, and Haru yelps. His backside is peppered with several smacks in a row, and then the deliciously soft fur is back, soothing the sting away. He's not sure which effect he loves more. Both of them make his body quiver in pleasure. The teasing continues for several minutes until Haru's ass is just as rosy as Akihito's, and the low burn of arousal has turned hotter, swelling his cock and making it ache as it sways between his legs.

He feels almost gleeful as he lays down the silky little fur and takes his specially made pair of gloves out of a pocket in his bag. He’s only recently acquired them, so neither of his delectable little toys have seen or felt them yet. He pulls them on and goes to stand between Aki and Haru. These Saint Andrew’s Crosses are designed so that they’re joined together at one top and bottom cross piece. It has a hinge and a pin so that they can be mounted side by side or face to face. Standing in the middle, he can reach them both. This won’t work for sorts of play that require him to be behind them or any sort of real finesse, but for what he’s getting ready to do now, it’s just fine. He lays a hand gently on each boy’s shoulder for a moment. Akihito turns his head and looks at him, pupils already dilated with his lust, his lips wet and parted. Haru nuzzles his cheek against the back of Asami’s hand. He smiles. His hands stroke in in a long, steady glide down each of their backs and they both cry out softly in surprise.

“These are called Vampire Gloves,” he says conversationally, continuing to stroke long swaths up and down their backs and over their adorable little rounded backsides. “There are very tiny points sticking out of the leather all over the palms and fingers. I don’t want you to worry. They’re not long enough to penetrate your skin, or draw blood as long as I use them with finesse rather than cruelty or clumsiness. And I’m never clumsy...and I’m never that kind of cruel. Your lovely skins are quite safe. But every inch of you I rub…” He draws his hands back and slaps them both sharply on their asses. “Or spank...will be scratched and stimulated by the points. You’re going to be so sensitized by the time I get to your pretty new gifts that you’ll sing under the lash from the very first stroke.”

He works them over from the tops of their shoulders down to the backs of their legs with the gloves. He’s seen vampire gloves fully capable of drawing blood, but his are works of art. The points are so fine and so short that he can slap them as hard as he can with them and not break their skin. Redness springs up in the wake of his stroking and the progressively harder spanking he gives them, but not a single drop of damning red wells up in their wake. He stands between them for a few minutes, casually teasing and touching them both, then moves to switching back and forth between them. He doesn’t spend long enough with either for the other to get bored or begin to feel neglected. He keeps them both gasping, anticipating, wondering what will happen next. 

Akihito cries out as Asami spanks him harder and harder with the gloves. It adds a very sharp sting to every slap. When he begins to carefully slap the insides of his thighs, Aki whimpers and trembles at the burn. Oh, it hurts even more than usual, but it’s different from the times Asami spanks him hard there on that sensitive skin. He feels like every inch of his skin the gloves have touched or smacked is going to catch on fire. Asami even very softly closes his fingers around the length of Akihito’s quivering erection. He doesn’t squeeze hard, and he doesn’t stroke, but the tiny prickling sensation is unlike any caress Aki has ever felt in such an intimate place. He cries out and shivers. His instinct is to buck his hips to try to throw the maddening touch off, but he knows that would be an unfortunate choice, so he trembles and stands very still. Asami chuckles softly and lets go. He reaches around from behind to softly pinch and stroke Aki’s nipples and he wails at the pain and pleasure of the stimulation. And when those torturous fingers part his cheeks to gently tickle his little pucker he nearly shrieks at the feeling. 

Haru's eyelids flutter a little as Aki's whimpers and cries tell him that his proud lover is chasing that point where all his bristly edges finally fall away, leaving only a needy, wanton boy desperate to follow Asami's touches and words with swift obedience. It's unutterably hot to witness it, the way Asami-sama knows just how to break them down, strip away all their inhibitions.

And then it's his turn again. Asami-sama's arm swings with force, driving the impact with that solid, implacable intensity that Haru adores, but, oh, the glove is a wonder. He pushes his bottom away from the cross, seeking each blow as every nerve of his tender ass seems to prickle with heat. When his Master aims his blows to Haru's inner thighs, Haru gasps, fingers curling and uncurling spasmodically. An overwhelming need to press his thighs together takes him, not because of the maddening burn and sharp sting, but because he's so turned on, the pleasure pooling in his groin is a wicked torment. But of course he can't.

"Master," he whimpers, not as a question or a plea, but just because everything feels so fucking good.

He steps back and looks at them both, the skin on their backs and backsides and legs red and sensitive, quivering with anticipation and desire. All for him, every inch of them. Every thought in their heads right now of him. Only of him, and nothing of the monster who’d come so very close to putting out their lights forever. Just the thought of it enrages him all over. Sometimes he wishes he could kill the bastard again, and slower, but Haru had been right. There’s no real sting to the knowledge that he hadn’t had the vengeance he’d planned, and Murakawa truly has no hold over them anymore. A hold he might have had if Asami had remained in his presence long enough to torture him slowly, time for him to bleed his poison into the wounds Asami carried from missing them horribly, and then from seeing them so terribly battered and wounded and hurt. _All_ of their wounds are healed now, and he grins savagely at the realization. Nothing of him remains, not even the stain of his blood on Asami’s hands, because of his wise little slave. Oh, but they’re so lovely. And they’ll be lovelier still with the marks of his whip...no, he corrects himself with a silent chuckle...with the marks of _their_ whips on their bodies.

He turns and walks to the hooks on the wall, taking down the two velvet bags and loosening their drawstrings. He dumps first one, and then the other, coiled and braided length out into his hands. He’s glad he’d taken the time to come in here earlier to practice, see if he still had the knack of it. He’d spent half an hour practicing, because it’s been years since he’s done what he’s proposing to do tonight. But a skill like this one is, for him, much like the proverbial riding a bicycle, because it’s so a part of his nature, and it had come back to him as eagerly as a long-lost friend. He shakes them both out. He’d been delighted to find that Lily hadn’t just sent them, she’d had them conditioned and broken in too. They’re ready to use, and as responsive to him as his own singletail, with none of the stiffness of a brand new whip, for all that they’ve never been used on anyone before tonight. And oh, used they shall be.

He looks them over again, his boys. His smile as he steps back to them is filthy, and as anticipatory as any predator’s could ever be. With an easy twist of his arms and snap of his wrists, both whips crack in the air at once. Haru and Aki look over their shoulders at the same time at him in astonishment. He does it again. 

“So tell me, my beautiful little pets,” he purrs evilly, “are you ready to sing for me?”

Haru can't take his eyes off his Master, even though his neck is craned around far enough to feel strained. Surely, he can't mean he's going to use both whips at the same time. "Master," Haru asks breathlessly with pure awe in his voice. "Are you...can you really use them _both_ at once?" He already knows the answer without asking because Asami-sama wouldn't have implied it otherwise, but it's still so unbelievable because what kind of time and effort and sheer _skill_ does that take to get to the point without risking injury? And Haru knows deeply that Asami-sama wouldn't put them at risk. On the other hand, he's grown to expect nothing less than miracles from the man too. He shares a look of pure understanding and delicious thrill with Akihito, then blurts, "Master, you are _so_ cool."

Asami throws his head back and bursts out laughing. Akihito laughs too, and Haru joins in, which is a little weird to be happening in the middle of a scene, but Aki thinks it suits him just fine. Asami laughs more now than he did when they’d met, and even for a few years after that. It’s still not all that common. He chuckles more often, but to hear him truly laugh in honest pleasure is still rare, and it’s hard not to laugh in response. He knows just from looking at some of the people they’d seen at The Black Rose that laughing in the middle of a scene would not be amusing to them, that they’d be offended or angry at anyone who did. That Asami can, and does, is one of the reasons he’s so much better, and so different, than those other Doms.

Asami recovers his aplomb and looks at them, still smiling, shaking his head a little at how unlikely this scenario is, and how little he cares, and how marvellous they are to him. He cracks both whips at once again for good measure.

“Oh yes, I can use them both at once. Dually wielding two implements of the same type at once is called Florentine style, after the art of fighting with two swords, or a sword and dagger. It’s difficult to learn, and most people who can do it, only do it with floggers. It takes time and lots of practice. Of course, it also helps if you’re ambidextrous, which I am.”

With that, one whip after the other nips sharply at each tight little ass, and he stops talking. It takes focus to use both whips effectively and with accuracy, and he is both very effective and deadly accurate. They’re both crying out for him in moments, the tips of the exquisitely crafted toys dancing over their bodies; shoulders and the long, clean lines of their backs though he avoids their spines and kidneys with care, bottoms and the backs of their legs. He builds the heat of the whips’ bites slowly, making sure he takes them with him as he turns up the heat. 

The whip's kiss turns Haru into a shameless little trollop, moaning beneath each lash and arching his bottom up like a cat in heat. As Asami builds up the intensity, he falls deeper and deeper into a mental space that's almost pure instinct. The pain, the abrupt almost needle-like sensation of the heavier blows make endorphins flow copiously through his racing blood, and he writhes and whimpers, lost to anything but the heat and lust his Master has ignited.

On some primal level, he's aware, too, of his other lover, whose fraught cries mirror his own. Side by side, he feels incredibly tuned in, perfectly in sync with Akihito as they simultaneously respond to Asami's wicked touch. The whip dances over their skin decorating them with molten stripes, leaving an afterglow of bright pain.

Although he drives them both higher and deeper into a delirium of pain and pleasure, the beast he keeps caged inside him remains curiously silent, even sated. When first Akihito and then Haru burst into tears, although the gift of them is as exquisite to him as ever, the sound of their crying doesn’t tempt him to wring ever more desperate sobs from their lovely mouths. The feelings of warmth and tenderness he feels for them in the moments when they are completely laid bare for him as they are right now don’t baffle or worry him as they once did. In engineering their own escape from Murakawa, they’ve proven they don’t need him. Rather than unmanning him, the knowledge of it, as he raises mirrored welts across their backsides and the backs of their thighs, thrills him. They are here because they _want_ to be. Because they choose it, choose _him_ , and it humbles him.

“Asami,” cries Akihito, his body straining against the cuffs at his slender wrists and ankles, and,

“Master,” sobs Haru, bowing his body towards Asami as much as his bonds allow, and he answers them, coiling the signal whips and setting them aside, he goes to them. Hands gentle on hot flesh, he leans into Akihito first and murmurs softly in his ear. After he unsnaps the rings of Aki’s restraints and leaves him leaning against the cross, tears shining on his cheeks and a rather goofy smile on his face, he turns to Haru. Fingers softly skimming the welts he’s branded over the lovely canvas of his little slave’s skin, he leans close to murmur the same words to Haru that he’s just said to Akihito.

“Haru...my sweet, courageous, beautiful boy.” He presses his lips to the tender skin behind Haru’s ear and whispers, “I love you.”

Time stands still for an instant that seems to stretch out forever. Then, Haru's heart crashes against his chest with a heavy thud, beating harder and faster than even the whipping had caused. His breath escapes in one long rush, and his tears fall with tumultuous force. Oh, his chest _hurts_. The ache of it rivals the hot burn of his backside, but he wouldn't trade the sensation for anything in the world.

He'd told himself it didn't matter if he never heard those words from Asami-sama. He'd even believed it, though he could never quite quench the deeply buried _hope_ that one day he would. Hearing them now, so unexpectedly, and already broken down so beautifully by his Master, his emotions raw and wide open, absolutely shatters him.

His body trembles against the cross, but his neck cranes and his tear-blinded eyes seek Asami's, wide with wonder and half-delirious with unabashed joy. "Master..." he sobs, barely coherent. "Oh, _Master_. I love you. I love you so much."

He takes them down gently, handling them as though they are something rare and fragile and irreplaceably precious (and all of that is true except for the fragile part), and leads them to the bed. It is then that Asami Ryuichi does something he’s never done before in all his Gods-forsaken life. He has done many things. Spat in the face of royalty. Driven a car at breakneck speeds down North Yungas Road. Fucked an heiress while piloting a helicopter over her drug lord Daddy’s secure compound. Looked death in the eye too many times to count and laughed in its fucking face. None of those things had scared him. What he does with his two boys tonight makes him tremble in his shoes a little (if he were wearing them, of course). He’s not one to shrink from danger though, and Gods have mercy on the man who ever calls him a coward. He’s just not sure if he knows _how_. But looking into their eyes and seeing nothing there but love and trust and honest need, he sucks in his breath and does it anyway. 

He makes love to them.


	26. Getaway - Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there's one chapter of this little arc that doesn't have any sex in it. Just a lot of buildup for the final chapter, coming very, very soon! Asami and Aki spend some time together while Haru reflects. Then it's time to prepare for the most important conversation of Haru's life...

“What shall we do today, Aki-kun?” Asami asks him after breakfast. After sharing a significant look, he and Haru have agreed that Akihito should be first to spend some one-on-one time with Asami the next day. Haru has taken his sketch pad out to the garden, saying he wants to try to capture some of the wildlife in pencil. Aki has requested one of the goats, which are adorable.

“I’m not sure what else, but first...could we go for a walk? I...need to talk to you about something. And I want to take some pictures too.”

“All right,” agrees Asami easily, and waits for Akihito to gather his equipment. For the first half-hour of their walk, he immerses himself in his viewfinder, but finally lets it hang around his neck and stops, leaning against a gently sloping palm trunk to nibble at his thumbnail. Asami finds another when Aki doesn’t start talking immediately and waits patiently, for a while.

“The only times you’ve had this much trouble getting to the point,” he chides gently after a few minutes, “were when you wanted to ask to keep Haru and when you wanted me to give Feilong a chance to avoid his...lesson...if he’d tell the truth about why he’d asked you to stay in Hong Kong with him. And since Feilong hasn’t been the topic of this kind of seriousness for a long time, I can only assume you want to talk to me about Haru. Is everything all right?”

Aki grimaces at him and rolls his eyes.

“Except for you being scary like a freak? Hell yeah. Actually, everything’s...really great. I’m…” He ducks his head, suddenly shy. They don’t do this, he and Asami...the sentiment. And yet he’s begun to realize that it’s actually more like _he_ doesn’t do sentiment, but hundreds of small gestures and things Asami has said to him over the years have begun to come back to him recently. He’d scoffed at them, every one, and Asami had smirked at him, allowed him to believe he’d been joking at Akihito’s expense. But he thinks now that Asami had really meant every one of them, and it makes him feel like a dick. Again. Because he kind of thinks now, knowing how much Asami really does care for him, that he’d probably hurt his lover a great many times over the years, and the thought of it is suddenly unbearable to him. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he does something he’s done so rarely he can count them on one hand. He drops to his knees in front of Asami and throws his arms around the man’s thighs, burying his face against the warm skin of Asami’s flat, muscled belly. Oh Gods, keeping this man shirtless was the best bargain he’s ever struck with him.

“Here now,” says Asami, sounding a little alarmed. His hands brush Aki’s shoulders and his hair. “Akihito...what are you doing?”

“‘Msorry,” mutters Aki kind of into his belly button. “Oh Asami, I’m an asshole.”

“Are you? What heinous thing have you done lately?”

“It’s...I just….I realized something.”

“Very well, I’m listening,” says Asami, his fingers going still in Aki’s hair. 

“You’ve been telling me...showing me...how you feel for...well, _years_ ,” whispers Aki. “And I didn’t hear what you were saying.” Asami doesn’t respond for some time, until Aki grows restless, then strong hands tug him to his feet. Asami puts his hands on Aki’s shoulders and makes him look up, into those knowing, amber eyes.

“Do you hear me now?” he asks softly, a smirk playing at his lips. Aki goes up on tiptoes and yanks gently on Asami’s hair. When the kiss he initiates finally ends, leaving them both breathing a little harder, his mouth curves into a smile against Asami’s lips.

“Loud and clear,” he says softly. Asami’s smirk turns into a real smile.

“Good to know. But I don’t think that’s why you dragged me out into the jungle for the second day in a row.”

“Wha...why...oh,” says Aki, stammering a little as he struggles to recover his aplomb. “Haru,” he gasps finally. Asami looks around, wondering if their other lover has made an appearance.

“What about him?” he asks curiously.

“He’s ready,” says Aki, pushing back from Asami gently and looking up at him as earnestly as he knows how.

“For….?” Asami lifts an eyebrow.

“Your _collar_ , geez!”

“Ohh,” murmurs Asami, looking thoughtful. “What makes you think so?”

“We talked about it. Yesterday, on the beach. See...well, you remember the day me and Haru did that checklist thing, and you were at work but you listened on the condo’s security system?”

“Oh yes,” says Asami, his eyes dancing with humor. “And it made for _very_ interesting listening, too.”

“Pervert,” says Aki without rancor, and continues. “So...I told him about how we’d talked about it. How he could tell me when he was ready and I’d help him. That he’d...be naked, and...get on his knees and tell you why he wants it, why he’s ready, that...that a lot of people who do that sort of thing get is backwards, the Dominant offers the submissive their collar, but p-properly, the sub’s supposed to ask for it. So he...for a long time he didn’t think he’d be ready.”

“He’s always been too hard on himself, our Haru,” muses Asami thoughtfully. His hands, still on Akihito’s hips, move idly, his thumbs stroking gentle circles that pebble Aki’s skin. He leans closer unconsciously, pressing into Asami’s embrace, and lays his head on Asami’s broad, powerful chest.

“I know. But he’s different now. We both are.”

“You’ve both gained confidence,” agrees Asami. “It’s very attractive.”

“He doesn’t want to know what you’re going to say, but I do. You won’t say no. Asami, you can’t!”

“Could you perhaps hold off on berating me before giving me a chance to answer you?” smirks the older man, slapping him on the ass and nudging the top of Aki’s head with his chin. Akihito tilts his head back to look up at him. Asami is smiling. He lets out a sigh of relief.

“It’s yes. Of course it’s yes,” he says happily.

“Do I need to even bother being a part of this conversation?” complains Asami teasingly. “Yes, of course it is. I’ve wanted him in my collar since...oh, about a month into this relationship.”

“A-Asami?” whispers Aki, hesitant now.

“Hm?”

“I...I know things are...different with you and me. But I...I don’t want you to think I don’t….that I’m not….I mean, I’d...I’ll wear it...wear your collar too. If you want me to. Be-because I…”

“Akihito,” says Asami softly, placing his fingers on Aki’s lips to stop him. “That you’d say so means more to me than you’ll ever know. But I don’t need to put a collar on you to know that you love me. You’re quite correct. Things aren’t that way between the two of us, and I’ve never wished them to be. I love your fire and your sass. I wouldn’t change a thing about you, not for the world. You’ve been leery of taking our relationship to a deeper level for a long time, and I’ve respected that. I’ll always re…”

“I’m _not_ ,” says Akihito violently, yanking Asami’s wrist to free his lips so he can interrupt. “I’m not leery of that, or whatever fancy word you want to use for it. I didn’t believe you’d really want me, really care for someone like me. You with your expensive clothes and your limousine and your power and fancy condo...and me with my second-hand store clothes and my hole in the wall apartment and my ratty old scooter. It didn’t seem like we fit, and everybody who lived in your world with me was always happy to remind me that we didn’t!” Angrily, he dashes away tears that will form in his eyes despite his wishes and glares up at Asami fiercely. 

“Akihito…”

“No,” he snarls ferociously, “let me finish! Asami… I stopped listening to them a lot later than I should’ve, I know that now. I but I _did_ stop listening to them! You love me, and you don’t care if I’m gutter trash or from the wrong side of the tracks or whatever those people want to say about me. I know you do, I believe it. If...if there was a way to do it, I’d….commit to you in some kinda real way, but the law’s stupid and we can’t. And if you try to call me your wife, I swear to the gods I’ll put hair remover in your shampoo bottle! But...but if a collar would prove it, would show you and the people like Mistress Lily who you actually like who are into this stuff….then I’ll wear it, and I won’t be embarrassed, I’ll…”

“You mean it. You mean what you say, and that’s enough. Akihito, to be honest with you, I wasn’t sure you’d ever trust me enough to express these sentiments to me, and this is enough. It’s more than enough. We can find some way, some of the kind of symbol, if you want one. Thank you.”

Aki pulls all the way back and stands in front of him awkwardly, digging in his pocket for the items he’d shoved there this morning. He’d asked Kirishima to pick them up for him, once he’d come off the painkillers and begun to feel like himself again, after they’d returned home from Murakawa’s hell hole. He withdraws his fist and holds it out to Asami, clenched tightly.

“I...I...I was going to go buy these, the day that fucker took us. I was thinking about them, on my way to check on Haru, because we were planning a trip somewhere that weekend, and I thought it might be cool to give them to you and Haru then. I...I found them at C’est Bien about a week before.” Reluctantly, because he knows damned well they’re well below the level of quality and elegance Asami’s used to, he opens his fingers and shows the three silver rings he’d been thinking about the day he and Haru had been taken. The sterling bands look as though the chains that encircle them have been carved into the metal. Asami looks at them curiously, and then plucks one from Akihito’s palm, which only trembles a little. He looks at it, turning it this way and that, and peers closely to read the engraving on the inside. He’s chosen the one that has Aki and Haru’s names etched inside, the largest of the three.

“That one’s yours,” mutters Akihito, horribly embarrassed. Oh, what can he possibly have been thinking, buying them? Asami’s going to think it’s stupid. He’d never deign to wear something as cheap as this, as…

His train of thought is abruptly derailed when he’s shoved abruptly back against the trunk of the tree they’re standing under. He manages to think to close his fist around the rings before he drops them when Asami’s mouth covers his, and he finds himself being thoroughly and passionately kissed. His exclamation of surprise is muffled rather effectively, and it’s not until Asami is finished that he manages to say anything else.

“What the hell was that for?” he asks, a lot more sullenly than he really intends, but he’s embarrassed, and doesn’t really know what to do about it.

“They’re perfect,” says Asami, and his mouth falls open.

“What? No….they’re not! They….they’re not even made out of platinum or whatever. I don’t even know what I was thinking I just...I asked Kirishima to go get them and get them engraved like I wanted…”

“You sent _Kirishima_ to C’est Bien?” asks Asami incredulously, and when Akihito nods, pouting a little, he bursts out laughing.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” demands Aki, hunching his shoulders.

“Oh Gods.” Asami wipes his eye with a finger and shakes his head. “It’s a wonder he didn’t die of humiliation. Oh Akihito, I do love you. Stop. They’re exactly the sort of thing I was thinking of. But,” he muses, considering, “they’re not quite a collar. Come.” He seizes Akihito’s wrist and drags him along, marching purposefully back towards the house.

“Where are we going?” complains Aki, stumbling behind him.

“Shopping. I’ll get Suoh to have the jet ready.”

 

***

Haru finds a quiet little oasis deep in the garden. No goats in sight, but there are birds in the trees and a lizard or two with curled tails that clamber over the stones and up the trunks of the palms. He puts his back against one, and starts idly sketching, just letting his eyes and fingers do the work while his thoughts turn over and over. His heart to heart with Akihito had all but settled things for him. He needs to talk to him again, and very soon, but this time it will be to tell Akihito that's he _is_ ready to ask Asami-sama, with Aki's help, of course.

Haru's fingers still and his head falls back against the slender tree. A slow, dreamy smile spreads over his face. _Haru...my sweet, courageous, beautiful boy. I love you._

He's only played those words over again about a thousand times since last night, but he can't stop. Each time, his stomach flutters, and it makes him shiver with happiness. He's glad, though, to have some time alone. For some reason, hearing Asami-sama say those words has made him unaccountably shy in his Master's presence. His normal reserve hides it somewhat, but meeting Asami-sama's gaze this morning, and without his cheeks staining a faint pink, turned out to be almost impossible.

It adds a different kind of nervousness to his preparations. Even with his natural tendency to worry too much, he can't deny that he's certain Asami-sama will react favorably to his request. Akihito had insisted he would, and after last night...

Haru laughs softly in simple joy. It's not fear of rejection that makes him nervous. Perhaps it's the anticipation of this new aspect, the fresh knowledge of his Master's feelings, and the idea that both Akihito and Asami want him as a permanent part of their lives. The anticipation is killing him, yet, at the same time, he's a bit of a wreck trying to decide how to go about it and what to say exactly. _Nothing_ sounds perfectly right when he tries to rehearse it in his head, and he's too embarrassed to even try it out on Akihito.

Playing it by ear is probably going to be his method of last resort. He just hopes he doesn't fumble too badly. How he can ever express the enormity of what his heart feels? He's not sure of the answer, but he knows that both Asami and Akihito will be patient and kind, just like they've always been.

"You really are an idiot," he murmurs softly to himself, a rueful grin slanting his lips. Asami-sama was perfectly right about him worrying too much over things. And just like that, he lets it go. Neither one of his lovers ever judges him harshly. In fact, they do the exact opposite, always viewing him in an impossibly flattering light. Haru laughs again, filled with a deep affection and love.

He can't pretend to draw anymore, so he takes his supplies to the terrace and decides to go inside while he has the chance to put the finishing touches on a gift he'd been working on for months. He wants to present it to Asami-sama and Aki as a token of his feelings, and he's poured a lot of himself and hard work into it. Despite his school work and the time he spent with his lovers, he'd managed to squeeze in spare moments and the occasional late night to complete it. His only worry is that it's too presumptuous, but it comes from the heart, and he hopes they'll receive it in that vein.

 

He touches his throat and a pang hits his chest. He still misses the training collar that Asami-sama had given him. _Well,_ Haru thinks. _Hopefully, it won't be bare for much longer._

He smiles.

_Tomorrow._

***

The ocean breeze ruffles Haru's hair as he stares unseeingly over the softly-lit garden. The things he wants to express this evening tumble over and over in his mind, but the ineffectual words that he attempts to shape his thoughts frustrate him. His fingers grip the marble balustrade of the terrace tightly, and he doesn't even realize how much nervous tension fills him until Akihito's hands touch his shoulders, and he twitches in startlement.

"Hey," Akihito says with soothing voice. "It's time to get ready." His thumbs dig into Haru's shoulders, and Haru sags a little, sinking into the pleasure of the impromptu massage. "And you need to stop worrying," Akihito adds with mock sternness, and Haru sighs a little, trying to let go of his bottled-up anxiety. Akihito turns him around, his gaze tender with affection and protectiveness. "You know I wouldn't let you do this if it wasn't the right thing, don't you?"

Haru nods wordlessly and offers Akihito a shaky smile. "I know," he finally says softly. "I'm just...about to jump out of my skin." He laughs, jerky and nervous and sheepish and runs his hands through his hair.

"Yeah, I know that feeling." Akihito grins. "There's really only one thing for it, then."

 

"What's that?" Haru asks, tilting his head curiously.

"Dive right in." A rather wicked smirk reminiscent of Asami appears on Akihito's face. "Stop obsessing and _strip_."

Haru's mouth forms a small 'oh', and then he blushes, but after a few seconds, he meets the challenge of Akihito's raised eyebrows and unzips his shorts. Akihito kisses him slowly as they fall to Haru's ankles, and then he kicks them away before Haru can begin his usual meticulous process of folding and putting away.

Haru watches it slide across the terrace and stop half over the threshold to the bedroom. His gaze jerks back to Akihito when he clears his throat. It isn't as if they haven't been running around half-naked _and_ even completely naked most of the time since they've come to the island. But somehow, a wave of shyness overtakes him as he steps out of his underwear and stands nude before his lover, knowing that he'll also be presenting himself to his Master in mere moments. _Naked. Vulnerable._ He shivers as the breeze quickens, even though the air is moist and warm.

A flare of utterly irrational panic makes him look at Akihito with wide, anxious eyes. The feeling is worse than than the case of stage fright he got his second year of high school when he had to take over for a sick school mate in a school production. What if Akihito is wrong about what Asami-sama will say? What if he's completely misread the situation? What if Asami-sama thinks the idea of Haru being ready is completely absurd? Or...or what if Asami simply changed his mind? And even if Asami-sama _is_ willing, how will he be able to ask him? He'll sound like an idiot, mess it all up when he tries to speak. His mind is going to go utterly blank, Haru is sure of it.

Aki watches the alternating expressions of anxiety and panic flit across his lover’s face and his heart squeezes in his chest. How he longs to have the right words to make this all right for Haru, to calm his fears. But he knows it’s something he simply doesn’t fully understand. Intellectually he knows Haru wants a much…. _much_ deeper level of submission than Akihito would ever find comfortable, but he can’t _really_ put himself into Haru’s shoes, because he’s never felt exactly the way he knows Haru feels. Asami’s words at dinner the other night on the terrace made it a little easier for him to understand a little of Haru’s desire to please Asami so. Having it pointed out to him that his cooking and cleaning and waiting for Asami with a joke and a smile...or a quick and dirty blowjob...after he’s had a long day really are forms of service in and of themselves has made him able to admit that he’s probably a little more submissive than he used to be willing to admit. But the thought of calling Asami “Master,” or even more, thinking of himself as Asami’s slave, makes his skin itch. Most of the time, he and Haru are able to connect on a very deep level that doesn’t need words for them to understand one another, but in this, Aki feels wretched that he can’t truly understand his boyfriend’s feelings, so he can’t think of the right words to make him stop freaking out so bad. He does the only thing he can think of.

He throws his arms around Haru and holds him fiercely.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much, and I never want to let you go. After tonight, you’ll belong to both of us for real, and I’ll never have to.” A tremor courses through Haru’s slim body and when Aki steps back, there are tears in his eyes. Akihito lunges forward and nearly bashes into Haru’s nose with his face, then licks away his tears as they both laugh a little tremulously.

“Thank you, Aki,” whispers Haru.

“I have an idea,” cries Aki suddenly, grabbing Haru’s hand and yanking him after him, to one of the guest rooms.

“What are you doing?” his lover asked him, looking a little dazed and confused. Aki pushes Haru impatiently down onto the bed and orders him to turn over onto his stomach.

“I’m gonna...don’t laugh, okay? I’m gonna….present you to the Sultan like a gift. I’m gonna make you...gonna fix you up pretty for him. I think maybe….if I do this...like a...like a ritual...it’ll help settle you a little. You like rituals. I bought this.” He fumbles a little and pulls a bottle of essential oil out of his pocket. “It’s real sandalwood oil.” He fumbles a little as he unscrews the cap and then sniffs it appreciatively and holds it down for Haru to smell.

“It’s wonderful, Aki,” he says softly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s one of his favorite smells. Asami’s. At least I think so. The stuff he buys for himself smells like this a little, and he mostly buys candles that smell this way too. Put your head down and shut up.”

Haru giggles a little. It sounds almost hysterical and a little strained, but it’s better than he’d been a few minutes ago. Akihito pours some of the oil into his hands and carefully massages it into every inch of Haru’s skin on the back side of his body. He’s desperately relieved when he feels the singing tension in his lover’s body ease a little. 

_Oh,_ he thinks, _he’s so beautiful. His skin’s so soft, so perfect. He’s gotten some sun. It’s looks really good on him. Wow, this oil is bringing out the marks from the other night even more. He’ll like that. Asami will too. I wish I could tell him Asami’s going to say yes. I hate seeing him so nervous. Wow, he’s got a really nice ass. Geez, Aki, stop that. But I get that it’s like a...trial by fire kinda thing. Okay, been spending long enough on his butt, dumbass. Oh Haru...I love you so much. You’re going to be so happy when he says yes. Don’t be scared._

“Turn over,” he whispers, his voice gone a little hoarse around the edges.

Haru rolls over obediently, though a languid sigh escapes him. Akihito's fingers and the heady smell of the oil have begun to work their magic. Haru's eyes darken as Akihito spreads the oil over his chest, showing particular attention to his nipples, rubbing with deliberate intent until they stand in stiff little peaks and glisten.

He bites his lip against a moan, thankful when Akihito moves to his shoulders and arms. The respite doesn't last long before Akihito's hands gently works the oils deep into his taut stomach, even dipping into his navel and swirling his finger within the small depression in a way that feels almost erotic. Haru shifts beneath him, flushing as his cock begins to swell.

Akihito's mouth curves a little, but his hands move down Haru's hips slick and sure, ignoring Haru's burgeoning arousal in favor of rubbing the scented oil into Haru's thighs and calves and feet, down to his very toes. It's only then that he meets Haru's eye, and with his own hot-eyed gaze, he carefully slicks Haru's cock and balls until they gleam under the soft lights like they've been gilded. Haru's hips raise of their volition, and he sighs Akihito's name.

"We're not done yet," Akihito murmurs, his voice tight with the struggle of his own desire. "I...I found some things yesterday that I thought you might like. Asami didn't see me pick them out, but I...I _know_ he’ll like them. I thought maybe they'd be perfect for tonight." He reaches out and draws Haru off the bed.

"What are they?" Haru asks breathlessly.

A soft tinkling is his answer. Akihito moves from the dresser back to his side, and Haru gasps when he sees the pretty silver chains looped over Akihito's arm. Akihito takes one and fastens it around Haru's wrist, watching a little apprehensively until Haru lifts his arm and breaks into a soft, delighted smile when the tiny bells chime.

"Do you like them?" Akihito can't help asking.

"Oh, yes," Haru says, almost glowing with radiant pleasure, and Akihito can't doubt his fervent sincerity. "Thank you, Aki. For all of this. It feels...it feels right. I _do_ like rituals, and...Asami-sama...he will too, won't he?"

"He's gonna totally lose it when he sees you," Akihito promises, and then they both snicker at the idea of Asami ever "losing it". Akihito places a bracelet on Haru's other wrist, and then kneels down to attach two more chains to his ankles. "There's this one too, if you'd like to wear it. It sits low around your hips..."

"Okay." Haru smiles, feeling a little shy again as Akihito stands behind him to fasten the long chain around his belly. Part of it rests low on his hips, with double loops that dip down over them and the upper curve of his ass. A long pendant with a single, faceted amber-gold stone hangs from the center of the belly chain to nestle right above his cock. It sways back and forth gently and Haru watches it mesmerized.

He's startled when Aki holds up a tiny container and whispers roughly. "One last touch, Haru, and you'll be perfect. Not that you aren't now. God, you..." Akihito inhales sharply. "Just close your eyes, or Asami's gonna be really mad at me for fucking you into next year before he gets a chance to."

A flush of pleasure at Akihito's words of rough praise suffuses Haru's skin, but he closes his eyes immediately and doesn't question when Akihito gently rubs some substance into his eyelids and around the edge of his lashes. "Now look up," he says softly, and Haru does, trying not to blink as the underside of his eyes are given the same treatment. "Now, look at me."

Haru looks straight at Akihito, who's studying him with frank heat and approval. He nods once and pulls Haru in front of the huge cheval glass that stands in one corner of the room.

 

Haru gasps. "Aki..."

Haru scarcely recognizes himself. The boy reflected couldn't really be _him._ His skin appears luminous, burnished to a fine sheen. His eyes are impossibly huge, ringed in kohl, and dark with wonder and excitement and desire. The slim, silver chains compliment the delicate turn of his wrists and ankles, and the chain around his hips and belly only emphasize his nakedness, the simple yet elegant ornamentation serving to offer up his body's offerings with shameless honesty.

Oh...he _feels_...he feels just like he looks. _Needy. Wanton. Eager. Willing. Submissive._ A ripple of raw, base emotion shudders over him. _Like a slave._


	27. Getaway - Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally time. Akihito presents Haru to Asami. 
> 
> Oh just read it.  
> *sniff*

"Oh, Aki. _Thank you._."

Akihito’s eyes drink in the sight of what he’s helped create. He’s never seen Haru look more breathtakingly lovely than he does tonight. He looks like something out of a dream, out of a movie, too exquisite to be real.

“You’re ready,” he whispers, because speaking aloud seems somehow blasphemous in the face of Haru’s loveliness. He takes Haru’s hand and leads him through the house, their bare feet silent on the cool tile and teak floors. “Just speak from your heart, Haru. If you’re honest, you can’t say anything wrong. Tell him how you feel, tell him why you want this, and then ask him. I-if he says yes,” Aki has to force himself to keep Asami’s response theoretical even though he knows damned well what the man is going to say, “he’ll ask me too, and I’m sorry Haru, but you’re getting _one_ spoiler. I’m gonna say yes. Yes with all my heart. Okay?”

“Okay,” gasps Haru. Aki glances back at him when they reach the door to the big, sunken living room, where Asami is waiting on the other side. Even though they all know he’s perfectly aware of why he’s here, they’ve played the game and said aloud simply that Haru wishes to speak with him.

“You’re on,” breathes Akihito, and opens the door. He lets go of Haru’s hand and hurries across the room to where Asami stands with his back to them, looking out over the ocean in the moonlight. He’s heard them, of course, but he waits until Akihito reaches him and slips his smaller hand into Asami’s much larger one.

“Haru’s here,” says Aki softly, looking up at Asami’s handsome face. Asami looks back, deeply into his eyes for a moment, and it’s a look more unguarded than Akihito is used to seeing. There’s something almost wild in his tiger eyes, and a thrumming tension to the set of his shoulders. He smiles a little thinly at Aki, and it freezes the breath in the young man’s chest as he realizes all in a rush that _Asami_ is nervous too. There’s no anxiety to it like there had been in Haru’s eyes, but this is almost as huge for Asami as it is for Haru, and he’s almost vibrating with suppressed emotion.

“Thank you, Akihito,” the big man murmurs back, and Aki seems to feel the weight of the words. Asami hopes he hears in them that he’s thanking him for so much more than his message. That Asami is thanking him for being here, for staying with him, for opening his heart, for trusting, for letting Haru into their lives, for giving Asami this dream he’s had for too many years to remember. He recalls the moment it had been born. A year into his training with his mentor, they’d been present at a party at the home of one of the man’s lifestyle friends, and had witnessed a collaring. Asami doesn’t remember the names of either Master or slave, but the moment when the girl had walked, naked and serene, through an enormous room full of clothed people she barely knew. Her head had been up, and she’d looked neither right nor left, with an expression of pure peace and happiness on her face. He doesn’t even remember whether she’d been pretty or not, for her expression had rendered her unspeakably lovely. She’d paid no attention to the ripple of exclamations as she passed through the crowd, nor taken notice of the heavy silence that had fallen, as she’d had eyes only for the man sitting off in a corner of the room with a couple of friends. She’d walked to him and knelt with such grace it had made him gasp. She’d knelt with her knees spread wide, placed her hands on the tops of her knees with the palms up in supplication, and bowed her head. He doesn’t recall her words exactly, but the gist of them had been to thank the man for allowing her the privilege of serving him, that her life was made complete by the giving of it into his care. That to please and serve him for the rest of her life was all she’d ever dream of asking, if he’d allow it. She’d lifted her head and tilted it slightly back and turned to the side, exposing her neck and throat to him, and she’d simply asked him, “Please Master, please allow me the honor of wearing your collar.” He’d said something in return too quiet for Asami to hear, then reached into his pocket and taken out a simple black leather collar and buckled it around her neck. He’d smiled at her with such tenderness, and she’d looked back at him with an expression of pure joy, and he’d known in that heart-stopping moment that he wanted to experience one just like it himself someday. That he’s not only being offered that chance tonight, but also has in his life another boy who challenges and charms and completes him in different and equally important ways quite simply humbles him. Aki looks a little bewildered by the intensity of his thanks, but seems to grasp some of what Asami’s not saying, and flashes him a brilliant smile. Then Asami turns to look at Haru.

His breath catches in his chest at the sight of the vision hovering nervously in the doorway. He’s quite simply almost too beautiful to be real, and indeed the way he stands poised like a slender deer about to bolt away, it looks as though he will, in fact, vanish at any moment. The lights in the room are dim, and most of the illumination comes from more than a dozen candles scattered about the space, gently perfuming the air with their scent. Their flickering light glistens off Haru’s warm golden skin. He looks almost gilded in the near-mystical glow. His eyes are dark and luminous, filled with equal parts adoration and terror, and whatever cosmetic magic Akihito has cast upon them makes them seem huge and mysterious and compelling. He moves at last, takes one hesitant step towards Asami, one hand reaching out hesitantly in supplication, and a sound like tiny faerie chimes teases the air. Asami notices the delicate chains at Haru’s wrists, ankles, and around his waist and can’t suppress a soft growl of deep approval. Suddenly unwilling to wait another moment, Asami shakes himself mentally and strides to the big chair in the corner of the room, near the picture window out of which he’d been looking, and opposite the doorway in which Haru stands. He sits down, and Aki comes to stand just behind him at his left shoulder.

“Come,” he says softly to Haru, who starts almost imperceptibly at the sound of his voice and then sucks in a shaky breath Asami can see even from more than twenty feet away. Then the boy walks gracefully across the room to where they wait, the tiny chimes making their music with every step. Asami recalls now that Akihito had slipped away briefly during their shopping venture earlier, and that the bag he’d returned with had contained something surprisingly weighty, and that it had made noises quite similar to these when it had shifted as he’d set it down. He wonders if Akihito had had any idea the name of the jewelry he’d been purchasing for their lover, or whether he’d simply found them pretty. A common adornment for the owned pets of many a Master or Mistress, the chimed chains are known as slave bells.

Haru kneels as prettily as Asami has ever seen anyone do so, and he feels a surge of pride at how well the boy has learned the things Asami has taught him. The pride grows fiercer and hotter when he spreads his knees wide, though a faint blush stains his cheeks at how this exposes his half-erect cock, and bows his head. One hand rests on his thigh, palm up, fingers curled gently inwards, relaxed and open. The other he raises to his face and touches two fingers to his lips. It is the wordless sign Asami has taught him for occasions during which slaves are expected not to speak until granted permission, a way to let his Master know he wishes to communicate. He waits patiently, unmoving, for Asami to give him permission to say anything. Asami waits several seconds, his eyes roving hungrily over the form of the young man kneeling before him, wanting to emblazon this moment into his brain for all time. Finally, he lets Haru off the hook.

“You may speak,” he says softly.

The fine hair on Haru's body stands as a shiver ripples over him, an acid burst of adrenaline searing his insides. His tongue peeks out and wets his lips that part with the barest tremor. His body, his limbs, even his thoughts feel almost drugged with the potent tug of the moment. The pull of his instinctive desires, and the astonishing reality of finding himself, finally, at the feet of his Master in supplication almost overloads his senses. Akihito's insightful preparations have melted the bonds of his inhibitions, and Haru feels every inch of his submission, the pleasure and honor of being allowed to offer up whatever charms he possesses to the eyes of his Master.

"Master," he breathes, all his planned words forgotten as his words tumble out. "I...I think I was yours from the very first time I saw you. Long before I _should_ have felt for you the things I did. And each and every time after that, as I came to know you better, watching you with Aki, and _oh_ the way you looked at him, protected him, cared for him, and then to see and feel for myself, again and again, your kindness to _me_. It...it completely _killed_ me. In...in a good way, I mean. It...it _slayed_ me. Conquered me. My...my heart _ached_ with it. I had never imagined even in my wildest fantasies there could be anyone like you. And believe me, I fantasized _a lot_ , even before I really knew what it was exactly I wanted...and needed...I really didn't understand _anything_." Haru forgets himself and any protocol in the swell of his emotions. His earnest shining face turns up and exposes the adoration in his gaze. Asami sits above him like a wild God on a throne. His half-clothed state only lending to aura of barely leashed power and sexuality.

"When I met you and Aki, it's like something finally clicked into place inside me, and I started to understand what I'd really been seeking. And I realized that I had been so...so _silly_ almost, so...blind to what could _really_ be. I'll never ever forget that moment in the car with you and Aki. With my bottom throbbing so hard from that spanking and being so confused and so messed up, and then you said that you and Aki _wanted_ me...and...and..." Haru says in wonder. "...the world changed in that instant. You wanted me too. You said that you wanted to be my Master, and that we could all give it a try together." Haru's reminiscent smile lights up the room. "I didn't think I could ever be happier than in that moment. But that wasn't true because it only kept getting better and better. Oh, Master, thank you for teaching me, for being so patient, and..." Haru's voice drops, and he whispers hoarsely. "For _wanting_ me, for letting me s-serve you...and please you. And I know I still have so much to learn. I know, but, Master, I love you. I love you so much. I want...I want so much to...to do it forever. There's _nothing_ , truly nothing, Master, that you could ask of me that I wouldn't try my hardest to give you. More than anything, I want to make you happy, you...and Aki, who is _so_ much to me. A big brother, a...a lover, and so much more. And...and belonging to you, being yours, your pet, your boy, your _slave_ , is the best feeling in the world. It's a _need_ , a deep deep desire...not a whim or a game, I swear, Master. I'll never not want it...never stop craving it. If...if you'll allow me to keep...keep serving you...if you'll allow me to wear your collar...Oh, Master, I'll take such good care of you. I'll be so good, and I'll always always honor and respect you. I'll make you proud because I... _I'm_ so very very proud to sit at your feet, to have you call me yours. You've given me everything already, and all I have to give you is me, but everything I am is all yours, if you'll have me."

Impulsively, Haru bends at the waist, his hands going to the floor beside Asami's bare feet, and his lips press softly against the instep of Asami's right foot. "Please, Master," he pleads softly, struggling to hear his own voice over the sound of the wild rush of blood to his ears. "Please let me wear your collar."

Asami doesn’t speak. He can see Haru visibly trembling, and after several seconds have passed, a tiny sound escapes the boy’s lips, a sound so plaintive and full of grief that it physically pains him to hear it. He’s not trying to torment this boy, it’s just that he’s frozen by the fervent, honest declarations he’s poured at Asami’s feet. Feelings of insecurity he hasn’t felt since he was a little boy at his cold father’s knee steal his voice. He thinks of the man he is, the things he’s done, and there is no way in hell that man is worthy of this kind of devotion. It’s impossible. And yet the desire for it is so strong it makes his teeth ache. Akihito bangs on his shoulder with his fist and Asami glances up at him.

“ _Do something_ ,” hisses Aki, glaring at him and then looking significantly down at Haru, who is still bent over Asami’s feet but has now covered his face with his hands. His shoulders are shaking as he tries valiantly not to cry, Asami’s silence giving him reason to believe his plea will not be answered. 

“Kneel up, Haruki,” says Asami softly, galvanized into action by the sight of this beautiful boy’s pain. He may be damned for all eternity, but he wants this too badly to refuse it, even if he has no business, no right, to claim it. Haru obeys him, keeping his eyes downcast. Tears sparkle on his lashes and his face is pale with fear and loss. “What do you say, Akihito?” Asami asks, looking up at Aki again. He raises a hand, and Aki takes it, gripping fiercely.

“You know. You _know_ what my answer is,” he says passionately. Asami smiles at him briefly and then looks back down at Haru.

“Turn your head to the side, Haru,” says Asami. Haru’s lips part on a tiny gasp as he obeys. Asami slides a hand into one of the deep pockets of the cargo pants he’s wearing and withdraws a shining circle of silver. Half an inch wide and just under a quarter of an inch thick, it appears to be a seamless band of gleaming sterling with a heavy silver O-ring hanging from the middle. A tiny allen wrench slots into a nearly-invisible hole on the underside. When it is turned, the circle separates and swings in half on a tiny hinge inside it. Asami slides from the chair to kneel in front of Haru, who trembles with the urge to look at him in shock, but valiantly obeys Asami’s order and keeps his head turned to the side. Asami slides the collar around his neck and then hands the little tool to Akihito. Surprised and pleased, Aki falls to his knees behind Haru. He places a kiss on the back of his lover’s neck and then closes the silver band. Bending and craning his neck so as not to dislodge Haru from his position, Aki inserts the minute wrench into its slot and locks the collar in place, turning it once more into a seamless circle of perfect silver.

Asami holds up another of the tiny allen wrenches and smiles fondly at Haru.

“Only Akihito and I will hold the keys to your collar, Haruki. There is no way to remove it aside from these, save cutting it off. We’ve commissioned a different piece for you, for everyday wear, that will be ready for us when we return home. But when you’re at home, or we’re going to the club, on weekends and whenever you’re not in school, you’ll wear this collar at all times. You’re never to remove it of your own volition, but must come to one of us, to whom you belong, if you need to change to the other one. It’s a symbol, my beautiful little slave, that your heart, your body, your very life are no longer your own, but are mine...ours...to care for. And Haru…”

He takes the boy’s face in his hands, hands which conceal a fine tremor only he can sense because his control is, after all, very good, and turns it gently to face him. Haru’s tears run unchecked down his face now, but there’s no trace of his former fear or grief. His lovely face is transfused with joy. Asami’s breath catches in his throat. It’s the same expression… _exactly_ the same….as the one on the slave girl’s face he’d seen all those years ago. There’s a look of soft wonder in his eyes, shocking to both Aki and Haru, as he realizes it’s just exactly the way he’s barely let himself dream it would be.

“Haru, I swear it, I’ll do my shabby best to take good care of them for you.”

“Me too,” cries Aki, throwing his arms around Haru from behind when Asami leans down to kiss him. “I promise too!”

Asami's kisses are always indescribably good, but this one outdoes them all. Cradled between their bodies, Haru melts against his Master's bronzed, bare chest and sighs into the kiss that's both passionate and gentle and seals the connection between them all with lips and tongue and sweet promise. He tastes the salt from his own tears and laughs breathlessly, pure joy bubbling up from a deep, endless well inside him.

His heart is too full for many words just yet, but he murmurs their names with ardent emotion. "Master...Aki-sama..." The honorific is uttered with complete and unthinking sincerity as an offering of his love and respect and perfect trust in his wonderful and kind lover that he's always looked up to. "Thank you..." he whispers inadequately. But, oh, his Master's face is just so beautiful, and the way he's looking at him squeezes Haru's heart so that he feels it might burst, and his Aki's tears are falling onto his shoulder, and Haru just _can't_ speak. His throat tightens up, and the collar...oh...

His lips part in a soft gasp and his fingers find it, playing across the cool metal. Only they have the key. He really and truly belongs to them. He smiles tremulously through his tears, meeting his beloved Master's molten gaze, and his eyes speak the volumes that his voice can't.

Asami looks at Akihito over Haru’s shoulder and smiles at him. Haru’s joy is infectious, and Aki beams back at him. Akihito looks around and spies something on the wall.

“Oh!” he cries, and scrambles to his feet. By the time he snatches the framed mirror off the wall and returns with it, Asami is seated in the chair once again, with Haru in his lap. “Look, this was on the wall. You can get a good look at it. Your collar, I mean.”

Haru, who had been blissfully gazing up into his Master’s indulgently smiling face and looking like he’d be content never to move from that spot for the rest of his life moments before is suddenly galvanized into action. He struggles to sit upright and snatches the mirror from Aki’s hands. In a heartbeat he’s lost to them, turning his head this way and that as he stares, utterly rapt, at the silver band around his neck. 

“It’s so beautiful,” he whispers in awe. “It’s _perfect_. It’s so light...I never thought steel could feel so light…”

Akihito snorts.

“Steel? D’you really think Asami would give any slaveboy of his something made out of anything as mundane as _steel_? That, my beautiful Haru, is sterling silver.”

Haru’s mouth opens into a small O of surprise and his fingers grow even more reverent as he touches the sleek metal around his slender throat. The O-ring on the front nestles perfectly in the hollow of his clavicle. 

“I...um,” mumbles Aki, suddenly shy, digging awkwardly in his pocket, “speaking of silver, I got a...a gift for the um. Occasion, too.” He pulls a box out of his pocket. Asami had suggested it would showcase the rings better than pocket lint, and procured one for him at one of the jewelers’ they’d gone to in Papeete. It’s black, with royal blue satin on the inside. He flips it open and plucks out the three identical rings. “I saw these at C’est Bien that time we went to buy those matching harnesses to wear to the Black Rose. I was even planning to go by and get them, the day we got kidnapped. I’m not...a collar isn’t right for me, for what’s between Asami and I, but I wanted something...special. Something that kind of...I don’t know. Before Murakawa I think I just thought of them as kind of...neat. A little dorky, but sorta cool. But now they’re...they mean a lot more to me. I’d...I give them to you both, wear them for you both...for real, if we could.” He hunches his shoulders awkwardly and holds up one of the silver bands with its cast chain in front of Haru’s shining eyes. “Y-yours has me and Asami’s names engraved inside. Mine has you and Asami’s names, and his has our names inside. Will you...do you think you’d like to wear it sometimes? You don’t have to, I mean it’s…”

His words are cut off by Haru plucking the ring out of his fingers and kissing him firmly.

“It’s beautiful. I love you, Akihito,” he whispers, then holds out the ring and his splayed fingers. Asami winks at Aki and does the same. It kind of takes his breath away a little, when he slides the bands onto their fingers. Then Haru holds his hand still while Asami places the ring on Aki’s finger. 

“These are very well done, Akihito,” says Asami, “and I think there’s only one thing it makes sense to do now, to make this pretty slave really believe this is real, because he looks a little like he may not be sure he isn’t in the middle of a dream.”

“Oh, it feels like a dream,” breathes Haru. “The best dream in the world, and I never want to wake up!”

It makes Asami chuckle, in the dark and sinful way that always makes Haru shiver. He runs his fingertips up the boy’s spine and cards them through his silky black hair. Slowly, his hand closes into a fist and he pulls Haru’s head back, exposing the column of his throat and the shining silver band around it. He leans down and licks a hot stripe up the side of that graceful neck and Haru moans, shivering with delight.

“Oh, it’s not a dream, my little slave. We’re going to drive that fact home for you now in the best way possible. Come, Akihito, let’s take our pretty toy to the dungeon.”

His slave bells ring prettily as Haru pads across the cool floors, one hand tucked into his Master's strong grip and the other laced with Akihito's.

"What are we going to do, Master?" he asks with breathless curiosity, but Asami draws into the center of the room.

"Hush," he murmurs, one long finger pressing for an instant to Haru's lips, and Haru exhales shakily, releasing all the other eager questions that were on the verge of spilling out.

Asami's hands settle on his shoulders, broad and warm, and then slide down Haru's arms to his wrists making the tiny bells jangle. He lifts Haru's arms and bends them until Haru's fingers are laced together behind his neck, elbows spread wide. When he steps back, his head cocks, and then he reaches out to tip up the delicate point of Haru's chin ever so slightly.

The effect is subtle but perfectly positions the display of his boy. Haru's back arches the tiniest bit, his throat stretches in a long elegant line, and his body is presented nicely to his Master's gaze, glistening nipples stiff and enticing, belly taut and faintly fluttering with Haru's shallow breathing, his pretty cock swaying beneath the golden jewel hanging from the silver chain around his hips.

He still doesn't speak, and Haru's heart throbs in its cage, his eyes dropping shyly as his Master's gaze travels over his body. Touch comes next. Asami's hands settle on him with startling firmness, sliding down his sides, following the lines of his ribs, the dip and curve of waist and hips, squeezing the round flesh of his ass.

"You did this, Akihito?" Asami's voice rumbles in low approval while his fingers dance up from their exploration of Haru's navel, gliding up the smooth expanse of gleaming skin and circling around Haru's oiled, scented, and terribly sensitive nipples. He gasps when Asami teases them, rubbing the taut little peaks until Haru's quivering creates a constant ringing, and then he pinches them sharply. Haru muffles his cry behind tightly pressed lips.

"Yes," Akihito says, a shy sort of pride in his answer. "I...I thought you'd like it."

Asami's response is swift and to the point. His large hand cradles the back of Akihito's head and rather savages Akihito's mouth with a kiss that leaves him panting raggedly. "Well done," he says with a hint of humor, knowing the words are a redundancy. "Your unexpected flair for decorating pretty slave boys is quite intriguing." Akihito grins at him, flushed with pleasure.

"I liked it, too," Akihito admits. "I mean, the way he looks is...amazing...but I really liked preparing him. I wanted to help him relax, too, but it was...really...sexy...a turn on." He flushes a little and focuses on his work displayed in Haru's slender form. "You know?"

"Oh, I know," Asami agrees. "And did he like it? Being turned into this exotic little creature, being prepared and primped and oiled and adorned." Asami fingers flick the slave bells and then they lift to Haru's kohl-rimmed eyes, making his lashes flutter with a soft caress. The poor boy blushes and trembles, and he can't contain a small moan when his lips are traced, his bottom lip plumped and rolled, as if his Master were inspecting their properties, their shape and softness, and Haru's pliability.

"Oh, yes," Akihito murmurs. "He liked it a _lot_."

Asami hums a syllable of consideration, and his thumb slips inside Haru's mouth. "I wonder if he really understands, our pretty, eager, lewd little slave." His thumb slides over Haru's tongue, pressing into the wet flesh. "This is mine."

His breath heats Haru's ear, and his tongue licks in. "This..." he breathes, "and this." Haru's eyelids are pressed again, and then Asami's hands, his fingers are everywhere, touching every bit of him, even the crease behind his knees, the underside of his arms, and only when he's claimed every millimeter of the rest of him does he make Haru spread his legs wider. "Show him to me, Akihito. Did you prepare him there too? Show me what you did. Show me what belongs to me."

And, oh, it's so hard to stay still when Akihito's hand wraps around his cock, lifts it to his Master's gaze, cups his balls in one hand to present them too. His thighs tremble and his lips part on a little sob because it's _so_ stunningly, excruciatingly raw. So perfect. It sinks him down so deeply into a place inside himself that he's never quite been before. It makes him want to prostrate himself at his Master's feet, but of course he doesn't. He keeps his quivering little chin lifted as Akihito's hands turn him around and bend him forward at Asami's soft command.

"And here?" he asks. "Did you oil his tight little hole for me? Did you make him squirm and whimper on your fingers?"

"N-no..." Akihito says, a hint of regret lacing his hoarse voice. "Only...only the outside, just a little."

"Yes." Asami's voice is rich and dark. "I can see how it gleams. Look at how our shameless little slave's hole twitches. It's so very hungry, isn't it?"

“Oh yeah,” agrees Aki, letting his eyes roam hungrily over Haru’s body. He has to admit that he kind of loves the way Asami’s being careful to make him feel included in this. It’s exciting. Kind of powerful. He hopes Haru doesn’t mind, but from the look on his face, Haru’s just about the farthest thing in the world from minding. “He looks like he’d just about explode...just from your hands on his skin.”

“Your hands too, Akihito,” says Asami with a wink and a smile. “Well, we’ll make sure this greedy little hole gets filled.” He leans down closer so that his warm breath tickles Haru’s ear. “And filled...and filled. But first…” He straightens and looks around the room. “Akihito, fetch Haru’s whip please.” He turns away so neither can see his delighted and very depraved grin at the way Haru’s lips part and a tremor of desire shakes his slim body, and at the soft little eager whine he can’t suppress. He goes to the wall and unties a rope from its cleat, letting it slide through his hands. A padded bar descends from the ceiling, suspended by heavy chains. When it is of a height that pleases him, he wraps the rope back around its cleat and gives it a few tugs to make sure it’s secure. Nodding, he turns back to his boys. Akihito has the black velvet bag containing Haru’s blue and black signal whip looped around his wrist and is petting Haru, running his fingers through his raven-black hair and murmuring softly to him. Haru hasn’t moved from the position in which Asami placed him. 

“Such a good little slave,” he purrs into Haru’s ear when he stalks back over to them. Haru’s answering smile is bright enough to light up the room.

“Are you going to whip him?” asks Aki curiously. “He wants you to!”

Asami chuckles. He takes the bag from Aki and loosens the drawstring. Withdrawing the supple coil of the little whip, he lets it unroll. The scent of leather and mink oil gently perfumes the air. Haru’s eyes slip closed and his cock twitches. Asami lifts the whip and lets its length brush his slave’s body gently.

“I can see that he does. _We_ are going to mark this boy’s flesh now. Ah!” He raises a finger to still Akihito’s protests.”I’ll do most of the work. Don’t worry. And I’ll help you. But one of the strokes will be yours, Akihito. It’s necessary. You’re to be my hands and body when I can’t be with you both. This won’t be a scene, Haru.” He explains what’s going to happen, but it’s far more for Akihito’s benefit than for Haru’s. The young man who stands naked before them, trembling with happiness and desire, doesn’t need it. There’s nothing Asami would do to him tonight that would frighten or confuse him. He’s breathtaking in the purity of his submission. It is complete. Wholehearted and without artifice. His Master’s wish is his command. But Asami wants Akihito to understand what’s happening, and why. “A few strokes only. It’s symbolic. A part of the ritual. They will not be gentle. Each one will mark your flesh deeply. It isn’t supposed to be easy. Being a slave is difficult. It tests the will, the resolve of the slave. Thus his claiming is a test of his resolve as well. Your safeword is, of course, still in effect. This isn’t meant to give you more than you can bear, but I think that already your mind and heart are so deeply sunken into your devotion to your Master that you’ll react much the same as you would had I already spent hours bringing you to this point. You may use ‘yellow’ if it’s too much. The strokes will be as follows. Three on your back, one for each of us, because although you are my slave, all of us are bound. Then seven on your bottom and legs, Haru...one for every day of the week, for every day from now on, until eternity or until you choose to remove your collar of your own accord and return it to us, your days are mine.”

Haru’s face looks terribly distressed, and Asami cups his cheek gently in his free hand.

“What’s wrong, sweet boy?”

“ _Never_!” cries Haru vehemently. “I’ll never do that! I’ll never give it back, Master, not unless you take it from me!”

“Looks like forever then,” says Aki, shaking his head in mock regret. “I guess we’re stuck with him.” The earnest look in Haru’s eyes is too passionate for Asami to make the joke in response to Akihito’s jest that springs to mind.

“Forever, then,” he agrees softly, and presses a kiss to the middle of Haru’s forehead. “Do you understand what’s going to happen?” The question is as much for Aki as it is for Haru, so he’s relieved to see both boy’s nods of agreement. He takes Haru’s hands and removes them from the back of the boy’s neck, then leads him gently to where the bar sways gently and raises them above his head, placing them around the smooth leather padding.

“Do you want the restraints?”asks Akihito, but Asami smiles into Haru’s face and shakes his head.

“They won’t be needed. He won’t let go. It’s a part of the ritual. The slave is unbound. His will to submit is his restraint.” 

Haru's fingers curl more tightly around the bar. He wouldn't let go now unless _maybe_ his life depended upon it, and only then because Asami-sama would be upset if he didn't in that case. Something of what he's thinking must show in his expression because Asami laughs softly and brushes a thumb across Haru's cheek.

Without another word, he steps behind Haru and turns his wrist, letting the whip dangle. A glance shows that Akihito is standing well out of the whip's reach, but notes with approval how the boy is watching him with serious concentration. He gives his young lover a slight nod, and draws backs his arm in a slow movement, allowing Akihito to watch his form.

The downswing and the snap of the leather is anything but slow. It bites hard into the glistening skin that still bears faint marks from their previous session, raising a fat, red weal across Haru's upper back.. Haru cries out and his body twists, but his hands hold fast to the raised bar in a white-knuckled grip. Asami had spoken only the truth that the strokes would not be gentle.

His Master has struck him with this intensity only once before, and only after a gradual build up in strength and emotion on that wild, passionate night. His judgment of Haru's state of mind is perfectly right, though, and the hot, sharp pain sinks into Haru's body like a drug. He craves the heat of it, the heady burn that symbolizes everything he so deeply wants and needs. Asami-sama doesn't wait long to lay the second across his flesh, allowing Haru the time it takes only to gasp and whimper and still before he readies for the third.

Haru's heart-wrenching cry as the whip cracks across his back and his body's involuntary undulation makes Akihito gasp too in ardent empathy. But Haru's hands hold fast and the low, soft sounds humming in his throat speak just as much of arousal as they do of suffering.

"Akihito," Asami murmurs, shaking the hair away from his eyes and extending the whip to the wide-eyed boy. Akihito's gaze flickers from the sleek leather to the raised marks on Haru's slender back. His pulse pounds a little as he sees the tiny, bright points of red that break the skin. He knows it's not...not _critical_...not enough to scar, to damage Haru permanently. He knows that it's something symbolic, something special, to carve their marks into Haru, to make them all one. Three stripes for each of them. But he shakes his head, staring at Asami a little wildly.

"Oh, Asami. I can't," he whispers. There's still seven more to go, and his chest aches in sympathy, even if he can see for himself how Haru responds so beautifully to the whipping. He he's just not sure he can be the one to put another on Haru's pretty skin, not even when his own cock throbs a little at the erotic picture their little tableau makes.

“Akihito,” says Asami softly, “trust me.”

Aki steps closer, his hand seeming to come up with a will of its own to take the handle of the proffered whip, even though he can see his own fingers shaking a little as they close around the butt. Asami’s teeth flash whitely in the dimness of the room as he grins at Akihito’s nervousness. As he releases the whip to Aki, his fingers slide over the fine bones of Aki’s fingers and close around his wrist. Sensitive fingertips can feel his little lover’s pulse hammering there. With a quick tug, he pulls Aki off balance and the boy stumbles, falling against Asami’s chest.

“Oof! What are you…,” sputters Akihito, but Asami doesn’t give him time to finish his protest. He takes Aki by the shoulders and spins him. Akihito gasps when Asami’s hands settle on his hips and snugs him firmly up against Asami’s front. He must have his feet spread apart because Aki can feel Asami’s erection through both their pants, rubbing against the swell of his bottom. He presses back against him, wiggling his butt a little, and is rewarded by a low growl in his ear and Asami’s teeth grazing the side of his neck.

“Let go,” murmurs Asami, his lips brushing the tender skin behind Akihito’s ear. “Trust me, lean on me, let me guide you.”

Aki lets his head fall back against Asami’s shoulder as he groans softly, relaxing into the powerful embrace of the big, muscled body that cradles him. Asami’s fingers trace circles on the top of Akihito’s shoulder, then trickle down his arm to his hand where he grips Haru’s signal whip. He lets out his breath on a long sigh as Asami raises both their arms together, and does as Asami asks. It’s easy, to just let go. How he’d have struggled against it just a year ago, suspicious and leery of Asami’s motives. He doesn’t hesitate now. Asami rocks them both slowly, letting Aki grow accustomed to the way his body moves. Slowly, he swings their joined arms in easy circles, the whip hissing against the floor.

“Trust me,” breathes Asami again.

“I do,” he whispers back.

“My good boy.”

It wouldn’t work if Aki was anything but totally relaxed in Asami’s embrace, but he is, and it does. Asami suddenly moves them both, so fast Akihito’s head is still spinning after it’s over. He draws their arms back and throws them forward, their bodies lunging as one, and the whip snakes out and slashes across the long line of Haru’s slender back. Akihito and Haru both cry out at the impact. Then Asami is helping steady Aki on his own feet and slipping the butt of the whip from nerveless fingers as Aki goggles at the dark welt across the pale flesh of Haru’s shoulders. Asami leans down and kisses him, quick and fierce.

“Thank you, Akihito,” he says, with one of those devilish smirks Aki has so often railed against but has always loved anyway and which never fail to make him go weak in the knees. He steps back, nearly staggering, awed at what he’s done, at being a part of it, and watches as Asami lays another lash across Haru’s defenseless bottom. He flinches inside at the brutality of it, but Asami’s pagan, wild beauty is breathtakingly compelling, and Haru’s cries of pain and ecstatic joy pierce his heart with a love so sharp it takes his breath away. Each one goes straight to his guts as well. His cock is achingly hard between his thighs, and his balls throb in time with his heart. Gods, Haru looks so good like that. He clings almost desperately to the bar, his spine arched and his head thrown back, his lips parted as cries are torn from them. His body gleams with the oil he’s been anointed with, and tears shine on his face. The tiny bells chime as his body jerks with the impact. But not in protest, oh no. There’s not a hint of resistance in Haru’s lithe body. He moves with the whip, he can’t help it. The pain must be incandescent, but he yields to it too, lifting his bottom eagerly for the next stroke, whining hungrily in his throat as he yearns towards it, waiting. 

_He’s so beautiful,_ he thinks, drinking in the sight of one lover, then turning them on the other. _They both are._

Barefoot, clad in his pants and nothing more, his tawny skin gleaming in the light of the candles set in iron sconces around the room, Asami looks like some fearsome jungle god. Muscles bunch and stretch and glide under his skin, and he moves with an unearthly grace that takes Akihito’s breath away. He wants them both so much. 

The last stroke lands in white-hot stripes against Haru's thighs, though he is too lost, drowned deep in his submission, to note how many have branded him already. He sobs a little, his body straining in his stretched pose. Oh, it _hurts_ dearly. But it fans the burn in his belly and groin, making his hips writhe in wanton little display.

His master's voice is suddenly at his ear, his flayed bottom and back drawn against his powerful frame to make him gasp and whimper. "You'll feel this for days, won't you, sweet boy. You'll remember what it means. And when the marks and sting fade, I'll place them on your flesh again and again to remind you as often as you wish. Because you crave it. As do I. But not because you will ever forget. They'll be carved in your heart and soul, won't they, my slave? Deep inside where they can never be erased."

"Yes," Haru cries hoarsely. "Oh, yes, Master. _Always._ Always always yours."

Strong arms lift him and cradle him as though he’s something small and fragile. He leans his head lovingly against his Master’s chest and turns to nuzzle against warm, bare skin. Asami lays him down gently on the big padded platform in one corner of the room.

“Aren’t you going to take him to the bedroom?” demands Aki, a little affronted.

“Here,” says Asami firmly. “Amid the trappings of why we’re here, tonight. With the toys and crosses and benches and frames I’ll tie you both to over and over until I’m too old to do it anymore.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever be too old,” mutters Aki, flushing a little, but he walks over and takes Asami’s proffered hand anyway, letting himself be drawn down onto the platform with them. Asami’s fingers card through his hair and tug his head down for a kiss, and Akihito moans into it, unable to resist the spell of carnal pleasure Asami weaves about them so easily. This kiss is a little different, but no less intoxicating. There’s something odd about it, and it takes him a while to realize what it is, but when he does, his eyes fly open in startlement and he sits back on his heels to stare at Asami with his mouth open. Because there’d been nothing of claiming, of dominance, in that kiss. Akihito, in fact, had been the one driving it.

“Kiss me again, Aki-san,” murmurs Asami, his rich voice deep and dark and inviting. “Not because I demand it, but because I’m asking. Kiss me like that again and then let’s claim our boy. I’m afraid he’s going to combust if we make him wait much longer.”

Aki’s eyes dart to Haru, who is staring up at them, a rapt expression on his face, his lips wet and red and swollen where he’s bitten them, his eyes shining and blown black in the light of the dozen tiny flames. _Our boy,_ thinks Aki, nearly dazed by the way Asami makes it about both of them, about all of them. He leans down and curls his fingers through Asami’s black hair, fingertips lightly scratching the curve of his skull, and he kisses him again. He’s hesitant at first, but warms to it quickly, inviting Asami’s tongue into his mouth with little curling flicks of his own, sucking on that full lower lip and, when Asami only hums encouragement, nipping it softly. Asami growls deep in his chest and kisses him back, hungrily, giving Aki the gift of his blatant desire, showing him with his lips and teeth and tongue how much he likes it.

At last Asami pulls back and turns his attention to Haru, who is nearly writhing on the platform beside them, whining softly. His bells chime when Asami kisses him and then turns to Akihito once again. He picks up a small pot of lubricant off a little recessed shelf where the platform juts out from the wall and opens it. He swirls a finger in it, both to coat it and to release more of the scent of the stuff into the air. Predictably, Haru moans softly. Grinning, he holds out the blue glass vial to Akihito and waits for him to dip a finger inside too.

“Help me,” he asks solemnly, keeping his lips from twitching only through sheer force of will at the Pavlovian response the smell of the stuff causes in both of his passionate young lovers. “Only to lubricate him well,” he warns, as Aki reaches for Haru.

“I….I don’t want to hurt him,” protests Akihito, fear in his voice. Asami shakes his head and manages not to laugh at him.

“You’re wonderful,” he chides gently, ribs creaking with the effort it takes not to chuckle at his nervous little lover. “But Haru can take my cock without being stretched first, even if it’s a tight fit, and so can you. You’ll be fine.” Akihito still looks doubtful, but together they slowly swirl slippery fingers over Haru’s entrance, and once at a time, inside him, while he pants and whimpers and chants softly under his breath,”Please,” and “Hurry,” and “Yesyesyes.”

“Enough,” says Asami, pushing Aki’s hand away gently. “Haruki, up on your knees, head and shoulders down. You remember this one. Give me the position in which a slave presents himself for his Master’s use.”

Haru hurries to obey. He turns over on his tummy and slowly stretches, like a redolent cat. He arches his back and gathers his knees under him, raising his hips high in the air and then slowly letting his knees slide out until they’re splayed obscenely wide, leaving nothing of his charms to the imagination. He lays his cheek against the leather of the platform, turning his head to the side, and presses his shoulders against it as well. Slowly he pulls his arms behind him and then folds them, hands gripping his own forearms, clasped behind him as though they’re manacled that way, though nothing restrains him. Asami runs light fingertips over the angry red welts on his boy’s ass and thighs, and tickles his tiny pucker softly. Haru keens softly through his teeth and lifts his hips even higher.

“Such a good boy,” whispers Asami. “Akihito, you first. You don’t have to hurt him. You can go as slowly as you like, but this is how it’s done. More symbolism. A slave accepts what his Master gives him, at any and all times, whether it is difficult or easy, enjoyable or not. His is to bend to another’s will, whatever that will may be. So he accepts being claimed in this way, to show that he knows this, understands and accepts it.”

Aki nods briefly and shuffles towards Haru on his knees. He grits his teeth a little when his cock bumps up against Haru’s twitching pink hole.

Haru's eyelashes flutter like frantic butterflies when Akihito finally begins to sink inside him. He goes oh so slowly, with careful little pushes and shoves that open Haru up little by little. The pace is almost maddening, though Akihito intends only to be gentle in his taking. But the stretch and burn of Akihito's slow invasion makes Haru moan.

"Aki-sama..." Haru breathes with almost dreamy arousal, gasping when Akihito's fingers dig into his raised hips and a convulsive snap of his own seats him fully in Haru's tight, oiled hole. The guttural sound that Haru produces seems to spur Akihito.

He murmurs Haru's name in a voice hoarse enough to sound like a low growl, and he begins to move, pulling his cock out of the hot, silky sheath and then pushing back into, but setting a pace that's still slow and careful, its very gentleness a sweet torment.

The strain in Haru's arched back and his wide-spread thighs is nothing compared to the delicious friction of Akihito's cock moving inside him, of the deliberate care he takes in fucking him, taking him in a way that's so distinctly _him_ , to claim him so sweetly and with utter concentration. Haru is awed and humbled by his lover's generosity, by the stunning intuitiveness he keeps showing, by his willingness to offer so much, step up to so much. The heady sensation of being so cherished, so unbelievably favored, sends a ripple of sheer erotic pleasure though Haru. His stuffed little hole twitches and spasms, and Akihito swears softly and moves just a bit faster.

Haru doesn't--can't--stifle his own responses. He wouldn't if he could, but he doesn't even think of such a thing. It's all he can give now beyond the submission of his body already splayed and opened, bound by his own hands, and presented with utter, willing vulnerability. It's instinctive under the eyes of these men...lover and Master...to conceal nothing. The ache to offer everything is almost mindless with the stripes of their possession still searing his senses. His arousal and submission are voiced in the increasingly desperate and keening sounds that escape his parted lips.

Akihito rides him to completion, driving into Haru's upthrust bottom in the end, pressing his cheek and shoulders more deeply into the platform. And even though Haru was not given his own release, a wave of dizziness makes his head spin as Akihito's come trickles down from his leaking, swollen little pucker and wets his thigh. His own arousal seems as if it could ignite and burn him from the inside out when he sobs from the loss of that hot flesh.

There’s a very long and breathless pause. Akihito is looking at Asami, almost quizzically, because he hasn’t moved yet, even though it’s pretty obvious from the distinctive tent in his pants and the burning look in his golden tiger eyes that he’s more than ready to stake his claim. What is he waiting for? Is there some kind of protocol Aki’s missing?

“Your...um...turn?” he says hesitantly. Despite the atmosphere of sexual tension so thick in the air you could cut it with a knife, Haru finds this so incredibly, adorably and perfectly _Akihito_ that he can’t hold back a tiny snort of hilarity. Asami’s lips twitch. Akihito snickers. Then they’re all laughing, and even though it’s absolutely not appropriate to the situation, it doesn’t seem to matter. It releases some of the tension, and Aki relaxes, no longer worried he’s missed something crucial. 

Moments later it returns with an almost audible snap when Asami stops laughing abruptly and pins Haru to the platform with the intensity of his piercing eyes.

“Akihito,” he muses in a nearly terrifying voice, “get underneath him, on your back, and hold him.” There’s something in his tone that brooks no disobedience, so Aki scrambles to obey, and Haru raises up to accommodate him, settling back into place on top of him in the same position, with his upper body pressed against Akihito’s warm skin and his hips canted obscenely up into the air, his stiff erection brushing against his boyfriend’s belly. Aki wraps his arms gently around Haru and squeezes him in a loving hug, feathering tender kisses all over his face as Asami moves to get on his knees behind Haru, who moans hungrily when his Master’s hands come down on his hips and squeeze a little.

He looks down at them, their lovely, slim bodies entwined and lewdly spread for him in a wanton display. They’re beautiful, and he’s never loved anyone or anything the way he loves these two young men, in such a way that he knows he’d give up everything he owns, all he’s worked for his entire life, in a heartbeat for them, without hesitation, and consider it well-spent. Everything. Including his very life. And yet love has little to do with what clamors in his brain in this moment, as his hands tilt Haru’s hips forward a little more, angling his body a little more to Asami’s liking as he prepares to stake his claim. There’s almost nothing sane at home in his eyes that rake over them, and the beast inside is very much in the driver’s seat as it snarls and salivates and roars in his brain, urging him on. The desire, the _need_ to brand his ownership of this boy into his willing flesh takes his breath away. That Haru gives himself willingly doesn’t calculate into Asami’s need. He feels only the breathtaking hunger to claim, to mate, to subjugate this boy entirely to his will, to fuck himself so deeply into Haru’s soul that he’ll never be able to look at another man as long as he lives. And nothing’s going to stop him.

He nestles the head of his massive cock against the soft, tender rosebud of Haru’s little hole. Letting Akihito go first hadn’t been generosity, not really. Gentleness is the farthest thing from Asami’s mind right now, and being opened up a little by his thoughtful, generous younger lover was the only way he’d have hope to survive what’s about to happen to him with the soundness of his mind and body intact. Haru knows Asami can be rough, even brutal when he wants to be. He’s been taken by Asami violently and loved every moment of it. But he’s never been taken by his _Master_ until tonight.

“Akihito,” snarls Asami, “ _don’t_ let go.”

And he slams himself, balls deep, into his little slave’s body with one vicious shove. Haru howls and writhes, he can’t help it, and Aki tightens his arms, staring up at Asami with rapt fascination. Oh...oh he’s so beautiful like this, so wild and fierce. He’s so like the feral jungle cat he sometimes resembles, somehow terrible in his beauty. 

The second brutal thrust tears Haru's breath away. It lodges somewhere in his chest and throbs with increasing pressure. His crossed arms press tightly against his back, his own fingers bearing down so hard in their grip, he's likely to leave bruises on himself. Oh, it hurts as his Master takes him. The pain is incandescent, searing itself into Haru's tender body, bursting in kaleidoscope colors beneath his lids as his eyes squeeze shut. It's night and day from Akihito's careful taking and sends Haru spiralling deeper into a space that somehow gives him strength to not only bear, but to lift his trembling hips that barest bit more, accepting the savage ravishment of his body with utter submission.

He's almost beyond rational thought, his body only capable of desperately trying to process the onslaught of sensation, but a flicker of memory, of recognition, illuminates in some small part of his mind.

The story Asami had told him so long ago. The bedtime story he'd asked for, and that Asami had woven for him. The poor lost little boy, and the beast in the woods who was also a great Lord. Oh, it had stirred him, then, so deeply. How envious he'd been of that boy in the story. How much he had longed to be taken and claimed. Beast and Lord. That brutal, inevitable taking that claimed the boy forever and ever.

The stone in his chest gives way, and Haru sobs with heart-wrenching intensity, his whole body shaking with the force of it, wracked with pain and joy. Akihito holds him with desperate fierceness, kissing and licking away his tears and fast as they fall, murmuring incoherent words of comfort, of love.

It was happening now. It was real. Finally real.

"M-M-Master..." Haru chokes out in raw emotion. He sobs it again and again.

Haru astonishes him over and over. Far from struggling against the brutal assault on his flesh, he welcomes it, lifting his body to meet every savage thrust. He doesn’t need Akihito to hold him in place at all, but when he looks down into Aki’s eyes and their gazes lock, Asami’s fiercely glad he’s asked it of him anyway.

“Asami,” whispers Akihito. Asami lets go of one of Haru’s hips and grasps Aki’s hand where he holds it clasped around their beautiful boy’s trembling body, and uses Akihito’s strength as leverage to pound himself into Haru’s flesh. And Akihito is strong, far stronger than anyone but Asami and Haru have ever given him credit for. Far more resilient, more patient, more forgiving and courageous. His is a quiet power, a pure one, so different from Asami’s wholly physical strength or force of will or political influence or his fortune or even his unquestionable Dominance. Aki’s strength endures, bolsters, believes. 

It’s perfect then, that they share this moment, that rather than confining Haru for Asami to claim him, he cradles Haru’s body between them, his tenderness the counterpoint to Asami’s savagery. He unclenches the fingers of his other hand from Haru’s right hip, and doesn’t feel the least bit sorry for the bruises he can see already forming there. He knows Haru won’t be either. Gently, in direct contrast to the vicious pounding of his heavy cock inside the tight sheath of Haru’s flesh, he closes those strong fingers around Haru’s hands, where he clasps his own wrists so tightly his fingers are nearly bloodless. With a glad little cry, Haru lets go of his wrists and grabs Asami’s hand like it’s a lifeline.

He doesn’t ease the strength of his assault. He’ll give them all, himself included, a proper claiming because for all its brutality there’s a sense of rightness to it, something like the fairy tale he’d told Haru as a bedtime story all those many months ago, that he knows very well his boy has dreamed of over and over since that night. But the silky grip of Haru’s flesh around him is so good, and the way Akihito writhes against Haru, trapping the sobbing little slave’s achingly hard cock between their bodies is too sweet. It isn’t supposed to matter whether a slave finds release during this ritual, while his Master takes him for the first time, to seal their pledge, because of its symbolism, but Asami suddenly finds he can’t tolerate the thought of not giving Haru that completion.

He changes the angle of his brutal assault until Haru stiffens and his cries take on a more desperate tone. He grins savagely.

“Mine,” he hisses through his teeth. Haru moans in response. “Ohh, you love the sound of that, little slave. As do I. Mine, Haru. Truly mine now, and I’ll never let you go. Feel me, my slave, feel how it aches, how it hurts. You’re going to be so sore tomorrow. And I’ll take you again anyway. Because you’re mine and I’ll use this perfect, tight little ass any way, any time I want. You should cry. You will again. You should cry because you’re damned, little slave, I’ll drag us all to hell and I don’t care. Gods. How I love you both. Scream for me, Haru. Give me that pretty voice. Yes, like that. So...ngh...so tight, so perfect. Close, sweet boy, I’m so close, you feel so good. Come for me, my slave. Haru. Ah. Come _now_!”

His words fill Haru with a drugged heat, a primal response that can't be denied. Haru's ravaged body convulses at the erotic command, and he sobs out his release into the crook of Akihito's neck, crying out at the inseparable mix of pleasure and torment. Akihito's warm embrace shelters him, holding him close and tight as if to absorb the worst of the throes of his pain and leave only the bliss.

His Master's hand squeezes his, locked together at the base of his back, while Asami shoves deep with one last guttural grunt. His long, leanly muscled body arcs with gorgeous strength, and he roots his thick, pulsing cock deep between Haru's cheeks and spills his seed within his slave.

The struggle in Haru's trembling thighs finally ceases and his straining body collapses completely. He melts into Akihito. Harsh pants expel from his slack mouth, and their two heartbeats combine, thudding together, chest to chest. His Master's cock still fills him, and Haru, raw and sore though he is, is loath to lose that connection. Drunk on the sensual and mental onslaught of his claiming, he whimpers mindlessly when Asami shifts, his burning, savaged hole twitching around the softening shaft as if to suck it in deeper. "Master..." he sobs a little piteously, clinging tighter to Asami's hand.

“Shh,” whispers Asami, slipping as gently from Haru’s body as he can. Haru wails a little and Aki hugs him tight, shooting Asami a slightly condemning look.

“You hurt him,” he scolds, petting Haru tenderly.

Asami chuckles while poor, overwrought Haru struggles to find words to tell Akihito how wrong he is.

“Hush, Haru,” he murmurs, gently gathering his boy in his arms (even though he has to shoot Akihito rather a severe look to get him to let go), and carries him down the hall to the master suite. “Leather upholstery is wonderful for play but not very comfortable for caring for someone afterwards.”

“Yeah, I sorta had to peel myself off of it,” agrees Aki,trotting anxiously after them and trying to keep petting Haru even though all the can really reach is his legs from about the knee down. “Did you have to be so rough on him?” he asks worriedly. Haru wearily lifts his head to send Aki a quelling look.

“He wasn’t crying because it hurt him when I pulled out. He didn’t want me to leave him,” says Asami, smirking down at Aki’s worried face. He reaches the bed and simply slides in with his trembling burden, loath to put his boy down at all. Haru nods and tries to snuggle closer.

“Ohh,” says Aki, hovering. Asami chuckles at him.

“I could use your help taking care of him,if you would,” he says gently. Akihito nods furiously and rushes about for the next few minutes, gathering supplies. Haru lifts his head to watch his concerned lover caroming out of the bathroom with his arms laden with first aid supplies, towels and washcloths enough for five or six people and giggles silently with his face pressed against his Master’s chest. His soft laughter turns to whimpering when Asami begins to gently clean his ravaged body.

“Shh, sweet boy,” murmurs Asami, an unusual tenderness squeezing his heart as he tends to Haru’s welts and scrapes, and to his rudely used flesh. “I’m sorry. Oh, Haru, you were so lovely, and so brave, and so perfect to me. I know it hurts. Just a few minutes and I’ll be done and you can rest….” He looks up at Akihito as he bustles back into the room with a tray filled with bread and fruit and snacks from the kitchen, as well as bottles of water, juice and soft drinks. “Well, after you feast, apparently…”

Haru's head pops up, and he eyes the food with interest. "Oh, that looks so good. I'm _starving_. " It's true. He had been too nervous earlier to do anything but pick at his food, and now that's he coming down a little from the intensity of the past hour, he feels absolutely ravenous.

Asami throws back his head and laughs. By now, he really shouldn't be astonished any longer by the ability of these two boys to devour food at any hour with great enthusiasm and capacity. "Very well," he says, finishing up his ministrations and helping Haru to be moderately comfortable against the head of the bed.

Haru wriggles a little, trying to find the position that causes the fewest twinges from his tender bottom, blushing as he meets Asami's knowing gaze. Akihito crawls on the bed beside them and drags the tray closer.

"Thank you, Aki." Haru smiles at him, and he can see that Aki knows he's thanking him for more than just the food because he ducks his head a bit when he grins back.

"Here," Aki says gruffly and shoves a piece of cut papaya into Haru's mouth.

Haru's licks up the juices that drip down his chin and makes a sound of pleasure. "I love the fruit here. It's so sweet!"

Asami watches his two giggling boys with their heads together, plying each other with exotic fruit and thinks to himself that's it's not only the fruit that is indescribably sweet. And then he mocks himself for entertaining such an insipid expression of sentimentality. Since he hasn't said it out loud, he can probably avoid giving up his credibility as a grown man of business. His gaze goes unforgivably soft, though, when both sets of mischievous, lovely eyes turn up to him, and his boys each proffer a golden slice of fruit.

He takes it first from one, then the other, licking those long, slender fingers and sucking the juice from each one, making it as lewd as he can to make up for the tender pang in his chest that threatens to turn him into a hopeless love fool.

"Spankings," he says suddenly with the sternest voice he can muster. "Tomorrow. With the heavy paddle."

Instead of looking at him with apprehension--as they should if they were normal people who feared him appropriately--they regard him with varying levels of eagerness and sauciness and just a bit of raised eyebrows. Hmph. Well, even if they have no idea of his thought processes that led to this pronouncement, they'd find out just how _not_ soft he was. After all, they don't need to know. _He_ is the one in charge.

Haru's dark silky head tucks just then into the crook of his neck, and Aki crawls across his lap to do the same on the other side. Their hands slide across his middle and entwine. _Dammit._ He sighs. They’re still getting spankings.

Just as he’s settling himself into the feeling of being wrapped so deliciously between his two boys, Haru shoots up and exclaims, "Oh!"

"What is it?" Asami asks, but Haru is already off the bed, seemingly forgetting all about his aches and pains and his Master as he darts out of the room. "Haru!"

"I'll be right back, Master!" he cries over his shoulder. His pert, welted bottom flashes them as he disappears around the corner.

Asami and Akihito look at each other and shrug in bewilderment. Soon enough, Haru comes padding back into the room, looking rather adorable in nothing but his collar. He’s carrying his laptop.

He stops at the foot of the bed and stares at them, suddenly appearing extremely vulnerable and uncertain. "I...I wanted to give something to you...to both of you. And I hope you don't think it's too...too presumptuous...that I'm overstepping. But I just wanted to do something that showed you how much...I love you. It's nothing like what you've given me. This collar...this ring...but..."

"Haru," Asami interrupts softly. "Come here."

Haru obeys, placing the laptop on the bedside table and climbing back into the bed to be pulled close to his Master. A kiss drops on the top of his head. "You don't need to give us anything more than what you already have. _You._ " Akihito echoes the sentiment from the other side of Asami.

But Haru screws up his face into a ridiculously charming moue of protest. "That's not the same," he insists. "But I know I'm still in school, so...well, I've been working on this for a while. And...and it started out as something just for fun. Kind of like the ultimate fantasy kind of thing. But I remembered talking to Akihito a long time ago. He told me a story once about the two of you, and how you offered to buy him a condo, and he said that one day _he_ would support you."

He lets Asami chuckle and Akihito squirm and insist he _will_ , laughing with them until they all quiet down again.

"Well, this is kind of related to that. I thought...well, what I can _do_ is this." Hesitantly, he takes the laptop and sets it carefully on Asami's lap where they can all see it. His finger hovers over a key, but he doesn't press yet. "It's...it's a dream house. _Our_ dream house," he says shyly. "It's what I imagined for us, if we could build anywhere and anything. I know it won't be perfect," he adds hastily. "I know it may not _really_ be practical because we live in the city, and you'll have things you'll like better or might want, but I tried to think of everything. I really did, and...this is it. I just thought, even if Aki and I can't ever build it for you, Master, that you'd like to see my...my dream of it. And Aki, I hope you'll like it too. Maybe...someday..."

With that, he presses the key, and a gorgeously rendered, absolutely professional portfolio of floorplans and architectural blueprints, as well as artistic renderings of a mountainside house begins to slide across the screen in one picture after another.

The tiered house seems to spill over the side of the mountain in glass and light, yet somehow blend into the rock and vegetation seamlessly. It overlooks a small, dark sand beach and a breathtaking expanse of ocean with the quintessential rising sun on the horizon. Asami and Akihito say nothing as they pause and scroll and take in each level, each hidden treasure of this house Haru has imagined for them: rooms for them all, a study for Asami, a darkroom and office for Akihito, a room for their pleasure that rivals the beautiful room Asami has installed here on the island, terraced gardens, a rocky oasis of a small pool, and much more. Akihito pauses on the long hallway of windows, entitled simply, _Gallery_ , intended to showcase his photography in elegant frames. When they look more closely they see that Haru has actually superimposed actual pieces from Akihito's collection of prints into the frames. It's like a tiny, perfect dollhouse, filled with their personal touches.

"The place...this piece of land, I mean, actually exists," Haru says nervously when their silence persists. "I've been there once. By train, it's not so far from Tokyo. I thought it was so beautiful. But I don't know all the surveying information, of course, all the geographical details I'd really need to design it properly, to get the specs exactly right. I did the best I could using some data from a similar property, so even though it's not accurate for _that_ exact property, the figures and dimensions _are_ sound for the base I worked from. I...I have the physical blueprints too. I drew those out by hand, but those are back in Tokyo. Maybe," he ducks his head. "I thought, maybe we could frame the main blueprint and hang somewhere in your condo...if you wanted."

“Oh...oh, _Haru,_ ” breathes Akihito reverently, his fingers barely brushing the screen, petting the images of the beautiful house, unable to take his eyes off it. “You did all this?” Haru nods shyly and peeks at him from under his bangs.

“Do you like it?” he whispers hopefully.

“It’s...it’s the most amazing house I’ve ever seen! Look at the gallery...it’d be like being famous, having a place like that to hang my work, even if I never really am!”

“You will be,” says Haru earnestly, “you just have to...stop...stop…” He bites his lip, not wanting to sound insulting.

“What he wants to say but won’t because he’s too kind,” interrupts Asami abruptly, “is that you’re too worried that you’re not good enough. That’s not like you, Akihito.”

Aki flushes and lowers his eyes, though his fingers keep reverently touching Haru’s laptop.

“I know,” he admits uncomfortably. “It’s just...it’s so important.”

“I haven’t gone over your head and sent any of your pieces to an agent or gallery owner because I know you’d always wonder if it had been my name that had won you your representation rather than your talent. I’d have sent the work anonymously, but you’d be suspicious anyway.”

“But you...you bought my pieces in that one showing…”

“I wanted them for one of my offices. And I had to terrify two other buyers to get them. I am not lying to you, Akihito. Your talent...yours and Haru’s...is dazzling. I understand that it’s frightening. Submitting a surveillance photo to a magazine or newspaper isn’t the same thing. It’s not a rejection of your talent, not personal, if they don’t buy it. It just means they’re not interested in the story. But if an agent or gallery rejects your images, it is a judgment of your talent.”

“But you’re good enough, Aki,” whispers Haru. “You’re so good. You know the picture you gave me on White Day? The one you took of me standing beside the bikes we rented?”

“By the fence with the baby goats, yeah.”

“Well, one time Sensei came by my apartment to go over some work we had to do for his undergraduates...I help him with those classes sometimes...and he’s funny about not caring at all about...propriety and things like that…”

“That’s an understatement,” mutters Asami, and sounds so sullen that both of them fall off into fits of giggles and he has to explain again how the old man had unapologetically shoved his way into the search for Aki and Haru. And had made assumptions about his business methods and eating habits. And had _poked_ him. More than once. Finally though, Haru finishes his thought.

“Anyway, he saw it, and he asked who’d taken it. I told him a...a friend.” He blushes a little, remembering Morioka’s sharp look that said Haru wasn’t fooling him. “And he said it was really eyecatching. That he...liked the way you used light and your eye for framing a shot was like nothing he’d seen in a while. Aki, he’s really brilliant. Photography and architecture have a lot of things in common, in the way light and lines and angles and things are important, and if someone like him said those things about your work, then you can believe that you’re not just good, you’re _brilliant_!”

Akihito turns pink with pleasure and then looks thoughtful.

“A...all right,” he says slowly. “I guess it doesn’t seem as terrifying to me now as it used to. And I guess maybe life feels a little shorter and the things that are important seem worth...doing, and having, and keeping…” He squeezes both their hands. “I...I’ll put together a portfolio and send it to some people when we get home. I promise!”

Haru cheers and Asami smiles indulgently and tousles his hair. Then he takes the laptop from Akihito and scrolls back through all the drawings, a tiny frown between his eyebrows. Haru catches his breath at the intense focus of his concentration and the seriousness of his expression. He feels more exposed than he had when Asami had examined his body from head to toe in the Dungeon. 

“Offices, play room, guest rooms, an apartment for Kirishima and Suoh, game room, photography studio….that’s a drafting table in your office, isn’t it?” His eyes flick to Haru, who nods wordlessly. He goes back to studying every detail of the plans and the 3-D model. The room grows very quiet and Akihito keeps exchanging breathless glances with Haru. After what seems like an eternity to Haru, Asami sets the laptop down and looks at them both thoughtfully.

“Well, I hope neither of you will be too disappointed that I’m probably not going to be willing to wait on you being able to support me and build me houses. The plans are lovely, Haru, but I don’t think I really want to hang them in the penthouse.”

Suddenly, the room is silent enough to hear a pin drop. Haru goes absolutely still, his eyes wide and startled and uncertain as he tries to figure out if he really heard Asami's words correctly. And then his stomach churns unpleasantly, a harsh tingle making him feel hollowed out inside. "O-oh..." he finally manages to say, looking down at his fingers which begin to pluck at the sheet covering his legs. "That's all right," he then asserts with the brightest voice he can muster and tries to will away the pricking of tears he can feel threatening to pool in his forced-wide eyes. "It...it was kind of a weird idea." He offers a small, flustered laugh. "I guess I got carried away."

Asami cups Haru’s face in his big, strong hand. His thumb brushes the trembling lips and his own mouth curls briefly into a surprisingly tender smile. Then his golden eyes sparkle with mischief and his ever-present smirk is back.

“It’s not that, my adorable little genius. It’s two things. I don’t want just anyone who comes to the condo to be able to see this dream spread out for them to view. I want to keep it a secret. And you’re going to need your plans and models, you know. It will be annoying to keep having to run back to the condo to check the details while you’re overseeing the design team and contractors.”

“Wh-what?” gasps Haru, his finely swept black brows drawing together in a cute little frown. He’s trying to figure out if he’s being made fun of or not, or whether Asami’s actually saying what it sort of sounds like he’s saying. Asami chuckles.

“I’m tired of the city. I’ve been considering a change of scenery for a while. As I said, I hope neither of you will be offended if I don’t wait for either of you to build this for us. It will take more than a year to finish, from what I can see. The terrain itself is going to require careful excavation, and knowing you as I do, Haru, you’d never settle for rushing a project this important. I know this area. It’s not at all far from the city, and after all, I do own three helicopters. I’m saying that your dream is perfect, my sweet boy. I wouldn’t change a single thing. You’ve considered every single need of all three of us, as well as my employees. It has everything I could imagine if I’d made a list myself. What about you, Aki?”

“I wouldn’t want to change any of it either...but Asami...are you really talking about...about moving? I mean...what about...Haru’s school...and my job….and your job?”

“Haru will have graduated by the time it’s finished. Akihito...you’re going to be so famous it will make your head spin. You won’t have to crouch in bushes or slimy alleyways or hang from downspouts and fire escapes unless it’s to get a perfect shot for your next show or art book. There are these lovely inventions called computers, from which freelance photographers such as yourself can actually submit their work to their bosses or agents via a marvellous, brand-new technology called email. I’ve heard there are even astonishing innovations called web pages that can host images to be shared with those people. And did I mention helicopters?”

Akihito can’t think of a single argument against any of that, and looks at the laptop screen longingly. Oh, it really is the most amazing house he’s ever seen. When he’d looked at it the first time, the very thought of them someday living together in a place even a little bit like that had struck him with a sense of longing so strong it had almost brought tears to his eyes. A place that’s really theirs together, and not a place where Asami already has a history, and is simply rearranging to make room for them. A place that’s theirs, a place with spaces just for each of them as well as spaces they can share. Something new and different, away from the places where some really bad things have happened, where they can build their own memories and have a life together...oh, it had seemed impossible. He’d quickly made the assumption that Asami would never be content to leave Tokyo. But what Asami says is true, even though he gives the man a dirty look at the internet jibe. It won’t do to let him think he can just get away with poking fun at Aki that way, of course. Asami winks at him.

“You’re right,” says Akihito softly, and allows himself to stroke a finger down the ends of the laptop screen with shining eyes. “Let’s do it.”

Haru's eyes are shiny, too, but this time the press of tears isn't anything he needs to hide. "Really, Master?" he asks with a stunned sort of hopefulness and ache in his chest, scarcely daring to believe that Asami actually intends to act on his design, that he hasn't passed out after the intense scene and dreamt this all up. "You truly like it?"

"Truly, sweet boy. And I think Aki is ready to pack up and move in right now."

Haru giggles because Akihito is muttering about which photos he'll hang where, and what the lighting will be like there at different times of the day. A swell of emotion so deep and full sweeps over Haru, he has to distract himself from the joy of it or he'll _really_ start to cry like a baby.

He brushes a few stray tears away and shoots an impish grin at his lovers. "If both of you like this so much, I really want to show you the Ultra Secret Super Hero Lair I designed when I was six. It's _awesome_. It's got waterslides and laser turrets and a moat full of mutant snails."

Akihito perks up at this and forgets his plans.

“No way! Can we have a secret lair in our house? Please, Asami? It could be like, a cave into the side of the mountain, and...well, okay, we don’t have to have the mutant snails. Maybe Asami can get us a few sharks…”

Asami looks at both their faces. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. He’s going to have to find a slimy politician to thoroughly ruin the minute they get home just to reassure himself he’s even still capable of ruthlessness. Because all he wants is to hand them the world on a shiny silver platter. After all they’ve been through, all they’ve put _him_ through, it’s a wonder he hasn’t gone grey with the stress of it, but far from turning him into the raving, paranoid, overprotective monster it probably would have done a few years ago, he’s so damned proud of them. Not that it means he’s not going to have extra security measures taken so that nothing like what happened to them can ever happen again. 

“Gods help me. If Haru wants to design a secret hideout, you can have one. At least we’ll have somewhere to go if the Apocalypse comes!”

Akihito cheers, and Haru laughs along with him. But when they start to chatter excitedly about plans he decides enough is enough. They find themselves pulled back against him by their hair, at which Aki emits a strangled squawk and Haru whimpers softly. He wraps his arms firmly around them and grins, pleased with himself.

“Plan your underground lairs later, my budding little heros. I’m feeling a little neglected, and watching you lick fruit juice off of each other earlier made my cock hard again. I think something needs to be done about that right now, or neither one of you gets to come tomorrow.”

Two very enthusiastic boys wriggle down to his lap, tug his pants off, and proceed to treat his erection as if it were their own personal exotic treat. _Which_ , he muses with a sigh of satisfaction, clasping his hands behind his head, and eyeing their pert, bare little asses sway in their eagerness to please him, _I suppose it is._

Life is good. Life is _very_ good.

THE END

(don't panic, see notes!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has been so welcoming and accepting of Haru into the relationship between Asami and Akihito! It's been really touching how you've opened your minds and hearts to an OC. And has been SUCH a joy to write him, and to share our imaginations of their adventures with you. It almost broke our hearts when we realized how neatly and beautifully this last chapter brought this series to a lovely close. But we had to admit that we don't think we can top this chapter, or follow it.
> 
> But don't freak out! We also decided we cannot bear to stop writing about the boys. We have too many ideas still, not to mention potential plans to turn some of these ideas into a book. We're going to start a new series, jumping ahead a year or so into their future, and begin to delve deeper into a wider BDSM AU with characters like Mistress Liliana, the Black Rose, and some of Asami's old lifestyle friends as he decides it's time to renew those acquaintances. We're envisioning them vacationing at kink resorts for the rich and famous, not unlike the one depicted in Exit to Eden, and taking them more often outside of Japan, especially as Haru and AKihito's careers take off. If, of course, you guys would be interested in hearing about stuff like that. If you think this is better left alone right here....
> 
> Well then, we'll probably write it anyway, but just for ourselves!


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